


We Fools Who Love, Part 3

by Could_it_be_magic



Series: We Fools Who Love [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Natasha Romanov Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:00:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 136,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28938153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Could_it_be_magic/pseuds/Could_it_be_magic
Summary: Natasha faces war both from without and within.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: We Fools Who Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113254
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. 1.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha manages to pry a few secrets out of Madame B's hard drive. Perhaps more than she wanted to know.

“Access granted,” Friday said smoothly.

“Aha!” I said, sitting back in my chair in satisfaction. “Gotcha! _Finally_.”

I was alone except for the disembodied AI personality. The discovery that we once more had Hydra to worry about had sent the entire facility into a frenzy of activity. We knew Hydra of old, but we had no idea what form this new incarnation might take. We had considered Hydra to be extinct on the basis that every known member of that organisation was dead, but clearly, somewhere along the way, we had missed a few. Someone had breathed new life into those twisted coils. That someone _could_ have been Goravitch, but personally I doubted it. Much as I hated to think we had yet another enemy hidden in the wings, something told me Goravitch was not the mastermind behind the drama that was unfolding. Whoever was in charge had resurrected the beast so silently and so skilfully that even Fury had heard no whisper that it was back in existence. From everything I had seen of the man so far, it seemed to me that Goravitch lacked the subtlety for such an undertaking. This secret mastermind was like a spider, spinning a huge web, the strands so fine they were invisible, yet so strong they could ensnare large prey. Goravitch, by comparison, was like a bull in a china shop. A very clever bull, granted, but the very opposite of silent and invisible. No, he wasn’t the one running the show, of that I was sure, but for the moment, his was the only name we had.

It was therefore vital that we assimilate the information I had dragged back from the past as quickly as possible. Somewhere in his past I hoped we would find a clue that could give us some possible avenue of investigation in the present, but the size of the task was daunting. The contents of the pendent translated to a veritable mountain of files and several terabytes of digital material. The only efficient way to tackle a data bank of this size was to split up the workload. Divide and conquer. So Sam and Rhodes were in the conference room, trawling through the mass of paper copied from the filing cabinets in both offices. Maria and Wanda were in the control room, examining Goravitch’s hard drive, as well as the other drives from the bunker, and Bruce and Melanie were in the lab, continuing their exploration of Goravitch’s serum development notes. Melanie had already had quite a few things to say in private about the man’s scientific methods, or rather, his lack of them. 

I had closeted myself in my office.

I didn’t often do that; I usually preferred my desk in the control room, in the middle of things. I didn’t want to be the kind of boss that no-one ever saw, the kind that the staff regarded with fear and where you had to have a really good reason to knock on their door. I wanted my people to know I was approachable, that I cared about them, and that I didn’t think of myself as better than they were. In fact, I only had an office at all because Maria insisted upon it. Early on in my captaincy she had told me that she totally supported my attitude, but my habit of pacing up and down when I was thinking drove her nuts. She assigned me one of the large meeting rooms as my private sanctum, and respectfully but forcefully requested that I take my restless thoughts in there.

My excuse for hiding in my office was that I needed quiet to concentrate on hacking into the final hard drive, the one belonging to Madame B, which had resisted all Friday’s attempts at decrypting it. It didn’t surprise me particularly that her files would be so difficult to access. The woman had taught _me_ nearly everything I knew, after all. But that also meant that if anyone could hack her files, I could. I had spent the last few days dredging my memory for every trick and technique she had ever taught me, and a complex combination of several had finally paid off. I was in.

I just wished my other little project would receive a similar breakthrough…

I glanced at another large translucent monitor, which displayed the real reason I had closeted myself in my office instead of remaining with the others. A piece of my heart that felt distinctly separate from the rest ached at the image of the dark-haired young woman with serious green eyes that adorned the screen. Data flashed faster than I could decipher as the computer relentlessly searched for a match for the image I had pulled from the recording on my pendent. I had devoted what I knew was an unreasonable number of the facility’s servers to the task, some running current facial recognition scans combing every device attached to wifi across the globe, some trawling through historical data – every piece of CCTV footage I could lay my hands on from every village, town and city surrounding the Red Room in the days after my escape, as well as every bus station, railway platform and airport within a hundred miles. I had already exhausted the old Shield database, as well as those of the CIA, Interpol and MI6. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for, perhaps just one tiny glimpse of Tanya’s face, one passing reference to a mystery woman with skills beyond the usual. Something, anything, to confirm she had survived.

So far, the search had turned up nothing.

I heaved a sigh, and turned my attention back to Madame B’s drive.

“Congratulations, boss,” Friday said, somehow managing to sound genuinely pleased. “You’re in.”

“Yes I am,” I smiled triumphantly. “Okay, Madame, let’s see what you were so keen to protect.”

The desktop screen from Madame B’s computer appeared on my own screen. Nothing immediately jumped out as out of the ordinary, but then, I hadn’t expected it to.

“Right, first things first. Friday, can you access the email account? Goravitch said she sent him a message while he was at this other mysterious secret base, recalling him to deal with Wanda. I suppose it’s too much to ask that she used something as simple as email to communicate with him?”

“No recorded contacts for Antonin Goravitch,” Friday confirmed. “In fact, no recorded contacts at all. And she deleted all her mail. I’ve attempted a retrieval program, but the server no longer exists.”

“Hmmmm.” Irritating, but not unexpected. “Can you locate any other communication software?” I requested, frowning.

“Scanning content…”

After a moment a familiar black window appeared. “Aha,” I remarked, pleased. “Now we’re getting somewhere. This is what I used to use to communicate with the Brethren. I’m assuming she would have had access to more than the single contact option I did…”

“I believe I’ve found a contacts list,” Friday obligingly supplied.

A list appeared. I glanced down it. I didn’t expect any actual names, and I didn’t get any. Madame B was far too competent to make an obvious mistake like using people’s real names, even on a heavily encrypted computer. I was quite surprised at the number of contacts, however. The list looked positively endless, organised into distinct groups.

“You know what, Friday, I’m beginning to think Madame B was a lot higher ranking than I realised,” I mused. “So many contacts… she wasn’t just able to communicate with the Brethren. It looks as though she could contact anyone in the entire organisation. And that guy Vladimir… he was definitely one of the Brethren, and yet she didn’t show him any kind of deference that I could see. More like an equal, even a rival…” I trailed off thoughtfully.

“You think she’s one of the Brethren?” Friday prompted after a moment.

I shrugged. “It would make sense. All that stuff she kept saying about people being useful to her… why would she need anyone to be useful, if her interests were confined to the Red Room? The Brethren supposedly answered to the Russian government, but it was common knowledge that they all had their own agendas, constantly competing for power and influence. She made it clear that she took credit for my achievements, and she wanted Wanda under her personal control too, I heard her admit as much.” I frowned, pondering. “Friday, what can you do with this software? Is there any way to track these contacts?”

“I’ll do my best, boss, but I can’t promise anything,” Friday replied, sounding apologetic. “Technology has changed a lot in nineteen years, it’s highly unlikely that they are still using the same software.”

I sighed. “I know. Try anyway. It’s a long shot, but if even one of these contacts can be traced, its more than we had before. While you do that, I’ll take a look through her personal files.”

“Okay boss.”

I closed down the messaging software and opened the documents folder, glancing through the icons. Madame B was as meticulously organised as I would have expected of such an obsessively controlling personality. Pursing my lips thoughtfully, I scanned the labels. Some of them I immediately disregarded for the moment, appearing to be administrational in nature. Hunting for something that might contain information on Goravitch, my eye was suddenly caught by a folder marked ‘Candidates’.

Frowning, I opened it, to be confronted with yet more folders, each labelled with a year, a whole list of them, from the late seventies right up to 2005. At the end of the list, was a folder marked ‘current’. I selected a year at random, and two sub-folders appeared. One was labelled ‘pass’, the other ‘fail’.

“Oh god,” I muttered, feeling nauseated. Suspecting what I was going to find, I checked the folder marked pass first.

A single document was saved within, labelled with a name, ‘Katrina Drackova’. I opened it.

NAME: KATRINA IVARA DRACKOVA

DATE OF BIRTH: 18th JULY 1979

ORIGIN: MOTHER FLORINA DRACKOVA, DIED OF DRUG OVERDOSE 24TH JUNE 1980. FATHER UNKNOWN.

DONATED BY MOSCOW STATE CHILDREN’S HOME, 5TH JANUARY 1985.

There followed a long list of comments and assessments of the girl’s training, covering the entire period she had been at the Red Room from her arrival as a five-year-old orphan to her graduation to active service as a KGB assassin many years later.

My heart sinking, I backtracked and checked the folder labelled ‘fail’. As I suspected, there were far more files in there. Thirty-six of them, to be exact, each labelled with a name.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, pained. These were the records of all the Red Room trainees. In this particular year, the mysterious Katrina Drackova was the only trainee who had graduated. The others, the failures, were the ones who had died over the course of the year.

“Friday, how many of these profiles are there?” The question tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

The screen flickered an instant.

“In total, one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-seven files in this section,” Friday replied.

I rested my forehead on the desk. _Don’t do it,_ I told myself. _Don’t ask. Don’t torture yourself…_

“How many survived?” I whispered.

“Forty-seven documents are contained within sub-folders labelled ‘pass’.” Friday sounded subdued, as though even a computer could share the nauseated horror I felt; see the sudden vision of a mountain of children’s bodies… Only forty-seven survivors, out of nearly two thousand… I had known the success rate was low, but I hadn’t realised it was that bad!

A sudden thought struck me, and I scrolled back to the folder she had labelled ‘current’. It stood to reason that these would be the records of the living trainees, the ones still resident at the time. I quickly found the file I expected to see. I hesitated, biting my lip, then selected it.

NAME: TANYA

DATE OF BIRTH: 4TH APRIL 1987

ORIGIN: PROJECT SUNRISE

PLACED WITH ST MARY’S HOME FOR GIRLS, MOSCOW. REMOVED TO COMMENCE TRAINING 2ND DECEMBER 1992.

There followed a long list of updates and assessments of her training and abilities. I skimmed over the passages. Her written scores were uniformly perfect, and her physical scores were consistently over ninety percent. That didn’t surprise me in the slightest. Unbidden, the memory rose up in my head, the two of us ducking and weaving in a sensual dance of death, perfectly matched. Sparring with her had been almost as satisfying as our lovemaking… I flinched away from the memory of her hands on me, of her soft skin and hard kisses… _Damn it_ , I swore at myself inwardly. _Stop this! Haven’t you hurt Melanie enough? Stop thinking about that!_

I stared resolutely at the screen, forcing myself to see only the words. I frowned, re-reading the information. It struck me as odd that they had a record of her date of birth but no mention of her parents, no surname… and what was Project Sunrise? I remembered, gritting my teeth against the all-too-clear recollection, the small tattoo on her hip, her comment that she had been marked when she was born…

“Friday, is there anything on this drive about Project Sunrise?” I asked aloud.

The screen flickered briefly while she searched, then the smooth voice said, “No boss. No other mention of the word sunrise in any other files.”

I chewed my lip. What could it be, and what could it have to do with her origin? Could they have been trialling some project where infants were groomed from birth, rather than from childhood? But if that was the case, why had she been placed in an orphanage for the first five years of her life, and why were there no others?

It was a mystery.

I shut the file down, unable to look at it any more. Letting my head fall into my hands, I tried not to dwell on the fact that the quiet teenager was long gone. Nineteen years later… who knew what she was like now, or if she was even alive.

I cast another anguished look at the second monitor, still running a comprehensive search, as it had been doing non-stop for days. There was still no sign of her. Either she had spent most of two decades successfully avoiding notice by any global security organisation, which considering how quickly _I_ had come to Shield’s attention seemed unlikely, or she simply hadn’t survived. She would be thirty-eight now, if she was alive, but my hopes on that front were dwindling. There were myriad ways she could have met her end in the last nineteen years, as I was all too aware, having laid awake at night agonising over each and every possibility. The life expectancy of an active assassin wasn’t exactly high, even for one as competent as her. Had I not defected, I had no doubt I would have taken one risk too many long ago. That or been assassinated, by someone with less integrity than Clint. Even if Tanya had done as I hoped and taken the opportunity I had provided to escape the KGB altogether, she would most likely have been hunted down and killed. Or, what haunted me most of all, she may not have survived to escape. She might have failed the Night Master’s test once more; or Madame B might have recovered consciousness long enough to order her execution before she had a chance to find out what had happened. The thought that her involvement with me might have earned her a death sentence filled me with agony.

 _Stop it_ , I told myself firmly. _Stop torturing yourself. She was remarkable. If anyone could survive, she could. I’m sure she’s fine. She’ll have passed her tests, graduated, become a perfect little death machine, just like Madame wanted. She’ll be out there somewhere, sterilised and clueless as to her real identity, not even knowing her own birthday, just like me…._

My breath caught, and I raised my head.

With a jolt, I realised what else must be in those files.

I hesitated, my insides suddenly writhing like a nest of snakes. I had lived this long without that knowledge. Did I really want to know?

I licked my lips, my mouth dry, then began searching through the year folders, checking the files of successful candidates for my own name.

And sooner than I expected, all of a sudden there it was, the sole survivor for the year 2001. ‘Natalia Romanova’.

Screwing up my face in apprehension, I opened the file.

NAME: NATALIA ALIONORA ROMANOVA

DATE OF BIRTH: 22ND NOVEMBER 1984

ORIGIN: GIFTED TO THE STATE BY FATHER IVAN ROMANOV AFTER THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE ALIONA IN CHILDBIRTH.

DONATED BY STALINGRAD ORPHANAGE 2ND JANUARY 1990.

There was a lot more, detailed assessments of my capabilities at each stage of my training, but my mind seemed to have frozen over. I stared at those first few sentences, reading them over and over again.

“Are you alright, boss?” Friday’s synthetic voice asked, sounding concerned.

“Yes,” I said numbly, barely aware of what I was saying. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Something very painful was happening in my head. Unable to process what I was feeling, I tried to focus on something easier to digest. My date of birth, for instance. Only a short time ago the others had all been shocked to discover I didn’t know how old I was. Well, now I did. I was forty years old. Almost forty-one. I felt both relief and disappointment. Relief, that I was a good bit younger than I had feared. Disappointment, that I was still a lot older than Melanie. But still, like she had said, I didn’t age normally, and ten years wasn’t such a big deal. Five years, really, if it hadn’t been for the whole vanishing thing. Such an age gap wasn’t uncommon.

Unwillingly, my eyes slid back to the passage marked origin. My parents’ names stood out starkly as though written in blood.

I had known, obviously, that I must have had parents once, but I had long ago given up any hope of learning anything about them. To find out that Madame B had known their identities all along, and had never told me, was infuriating, if not particularly surprising.

My throat tightened as I reread the passage. My mother had died in childbirth. My own father had given me up. I stared at my middle name. In Russian tradition, it should have been Ivana, taken from my father. But instead, he had chosen to derive my middle name from my mother’s. He must have adored her…

Something suspiciously like a sob fought its way up through my chest, escaping as a strangled sound. My birth had killed my mother. My father had wanted nothing to do with me, no doubt unable to bear to touch the thing that had caused the death of his beloved wife. Those to whom I had been entrusted had clearly felt no affection for me either, seen as they had ‘donated’ me to the Red Room at the age of five, as though I were an unwanted gift sent to a charity shop.

Clenching my teeth, I scrolled down the pages, skipping over the assessments of my abilities. At the very bottom, I found what I was looking for – the date of my graduation.

22nd NOVEMBER 2001.

The ache in my chest intensified.

I had become an active KGB assassin on my seventeenth birthday. At just seventeen, I had undergone the graduation ceremony…

I swallowed hard.

That wasn’t even the worst of it, I thought blearily. My thoughts went unwillingly to the locked drawer of my desk, to the fat red file that sat within. The file that I had refused to allow anyone to read. The file I hadn’t even been able to bring myself to open. The file containing all Goravitch’s notes and observations, every last sordid detail, of what he had done to me, before my transition period in the West Wing, so probably at least a couple of years before I finally graduated.

To suddenly have proof that everything in that file had been done to me before I was even legally old enough to drive in the USA, somehow made it seem even worse.

Almost as bad, was realising that I had defected to Shield at the ripe old age of twenty-one. Which meant that most of the atrocities I had committed; the events that had prompted Shield to designate me a threat to world security and send Clint to kill me; the crimes I had spent almost two decades trying to atone for… I had done most of that before I was even out of my teens…

At that moment, the door opened.

I didn’t look to see who it was. There was only one person in the building who ever entered this room without knocking. But I swiped my hands quickly across both my screens like the final flourish of an orchestra conductor, and they went instantly blank.

“Nat?” Melanie asked, her voice concerned. In seconds she was at my side. “Are you alright, love?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. I forced myself to smile at her. “I just managed to crack open Madame B’s drive.”

“That’s great,” she exclaimed. Then her face fell. “I take it her files aren’t any more pleasant than Goravitch’s,” she guessed.

I grimaced. “Sick and twisted in a whole different way,” I informed her. “I’ve just found the profiles of all the Red Room trainees since the seventies.” I clenched my jaw. “Nearly two thousand of them.” I stared bleakly at the opposite wall. “There are forty-seven recorded survivors.”

Melanie gasped, echoing my horror. “Oh my god…”

“Yeah.” I fell silent.

She studied me intently, seeming to intuit that my tension was not entirely due to the number of murdered orphans. “You found your own profile, didn’t you?”

I swallowed, and nodded.

She hesitated. “Can I see?”

I averted my eyes. “It’s in Russian,” I said lamely. It was a poor excuse, and she knew it. She might struggle with the language in its written form, the alphabet unlike what she was used to, but that was hardly a problem. I could have Friday translate it in seconds so she could read it. But I wasn’t ready for her to see it, or to talk about it, unable to express the deep pain and shame I was feeling.

“I found my date of birth,” I said instead. I forced a smile. “22nd November 1984. Pepper will be able to arrange another birthday party soon.”

Melanie chuckled softly. “She’ll be ecstatic.” Her concerned gaze left me in no doubt that she knew I had found something profoundly distressing in that file, but she asked no further questions. It was one of the things I loved about her. She never pressed me or made demands; she understood I needed time to process things in my own mind, and that I would talk when I was ready.

“So you’ll be forty-one in November,” she mused. She smiled, following my lead in trying to lighten the tone. “Shame we didn’t get this intel a year earlier. Pepper will be devastated she couldn’t arrange your fortieth. You know how much she loves a milestone.”

I laughed. “I’m sure she’ll make it an occasion nonetheless.”

“No doubt.” Her smile faded as she mulled over the ramifications my discovery of my date of birth revealed. I saw the look of dawning dismay in her eyes at the realisation that I had been twenty-one when I had defected, and I had already been an active agent for several years by then…

“How old were you when you graduated, Nat?” she asked in a small voice.

I winced. “I graduated on my seventeenth birthday.” I recoiled slightly at the fury that flooded into her face.

“Seventeen!” she repeated in a whisper, barely able to get the word out for rage. “They made you an active agent, made you kill people and sleep with them for information, at seventeen!” She went white. The pens in the holder on my desk began to rattle. “They _sterilised_ you, at _seventeen_?”

“You know, keeping repeating it doesn’t actually make it any better,” I said tightly. I placed a gentle hand over hers. She gradually calmed down. The pens ceased rattling.

“I guess I was a prodigy,” I said with forced airiness. “I don’t think many graduated that young. Tanya was almost nineteen and she hadn’t graduated yet…”

She flinched at the sound of the name.

I cursed myself furiously. _Idiot! What is wrong with you?_

“I’m sorry,” I said wretchedly. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Melanie cut me off shortly. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” She glanced at the other screen, seeming to know what it displayed despite the fact that I had blanked it out. “You haven’t found her yet then,” she said in a low, would-be casual voice that told me she knew exactly why I had sequestered myself in my office.

I winced. “No.” I cast her a beseeching look.

Her expression softened. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I get it. You just want to know she’s all right.”

I nodded miserably.

She studied me intently, opened her mouth, then seemed to decide against whatever it was she had been going to say. “It’s getting late,” she said instead. “Are you coming down for dinner? Those files will still be here in the morning you know.”

I smiled, relieved at the change of topic, although not for the reminder about dinner. I had never felt less like eating, my insides still churning. But the company of the others would be a welcome distraction, and afterwards… well afterwards, perhaps I could do a more thorough job of apologising for my thoughtlessness. At least, I could try. Things were still a little difficult in the bedroom department. As much as I was ecstatic to be with her again, I couldn’t be rid of that traitorous little part of me that craved a different pair of arms. I knew Melanie sensed it; knew she was probably wondering, in her own mind, how she compared. It made us both tense, and our attempts at lovemaking had been thus far been awkward and self-conscious. I knew the damage I had inflicted would take time to heal, and until then, the best I could do was try to show her how much she meant to me, and spend as much time with her as the current situation allowed.

“Okay,” I acquiesced to her suggestion, rising from my chair. “I’ll come. Friday, keep tracking those contacts, and search the drive for anything containing the name Antonin Goravitch. I’ll be back in the morning.”

I held out my hand to Melanie, and she took it, smiling. Acutely aware of how lucky I was to have this amazing woman at my side, I inwardly vowed to make up for the pain I had caused her, if it was the last thing I ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so again, Natasha's age is very controversial, particularly if you're a fan of the comics where she's apparently in her nineties! Other things I've read seem to go with the birth date of the actress, Scarlett Johansson, so that's what I've decided to go with, as it fits my story better. Otherwise Goravitch would be unfeasibly old!


	2. 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team think they have a lead on Goravitch, and Natasha discovers some unpleasant truths about herself.

“Okay, this is what I found on Madame’s B’s hard drive.”

I brought up the detailed profile in front of the team, who lounged in chairs around the large oval table in my office.

“According to this, Antonin Goravitch was born in St. Petersburg in 1954. His parents moved to England when he was six and he was educated there. He studied natural sciences at Oxford University, and then stayed on as a research fellow and lecturer.”

“Natural sciences,” Bruce snorted derisively. “There’s nothing bleeding natural about his kind of science!”

I frowned at him and he subsided. Turning back to the profile, I continued with my summary.

“The university seems to have been of a similar way of thinking. He was brought up before a disciplinary panel in 1978 for “indecent and unethical practices” and thrown out. He then went to London, where he was investigated by Scotland Yard in 1979 over the disappearances of an unspecified number of homeless people and prostitutes in the East End. However, before they got around to questioning him, he moved to France.” I curled my lip in distaste. “Left another trail of bodies across France; by 1981 Interpol and the French police were both investigating him, but again he fled before he could be apprehended, this time back to Russia. At which point, the Soviets apparently decided to recruit him. When an Interpol team arrived to demand assistance apprehending him, they were informed that he had already been arrested for murder and executed.”

“Executed?” Wanda repeated, eyes wide.

I shrugged. “The Soviet Union was not known for its mercy. Or lengthy legal proceedings. Interpol were a bit miffed that their prey had been killed before they could interrogate him, but they didn’t or couldn’t question what they had been told. At any rate, the threat was considered eliminated, the case was closed, and everyone forgot Goravitch had ever existed. At some point later on someone made sure of that by methodically deleting all records of him.”

I sat down. “Any thoughts so far?”

“I think if he was born in 1954, he’s pretty sprightly for his age,” Rhodes said sourly. “Has he been giving himself a shot of whatever he gave you, or what?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Bruce commented. “But if he did, it must have been in the last twenty years, because the notes we have mention nothing about it. They don’t mention the anti-aging effect specifically, probably because he couldn’t observe his specimens long enough to notice it, but he did observe the boost to the immune system and increased ability to process toxins – and the experiments he conducted to test that were gruesome, to say the least. At the point we have records up to, the beginning of 2006, he was still experiencing issues with certain… undesirable side effects. Looking at his formula, I don’t see any way he could have eliminated those, so I doubt he would risk shooting himself up with the full cocktail, but if he managed to isolate just the positive elements… they might not create a super-soldier, but they would certainly be enough to delay the effects of old age. I can’t imagine him _not_ taking advantage of that, particularly as he would have been able to do so in a much more controlled and less painful fashion than his victims ever experienced.” He winced apologetically at me.

I rolled my eyes. “So we probably can’t hope for old age or disease to finish him off any time soon.”

He nodded glumly.

“Even if he didn’t take the full cocktail, he may still have some of the other side effects,” Melanie observed. “Faster reactions, resistance to drugs,” she shot me an irritable look with slightly bloodshot eyes, “ridiculous tolerance for alcohol, that sort of thing.”

I smiled, shaking my head in amusement. She had brought her current suffering on herself, the natural result of having drunk far too much wine the night before. As though seeking a means to release the tension that permeated our relationship since my return from the past, I had returned to our quarters last night to find her waiting with a couple of bottles of a particularly fine vintage red. Not being a heavy drinker by nature, by the time we had polished off the second bottle she was thoroughly drunk. The release of laughter and passion and tears made for an intense evening, but it seemed to have cleared the air. For the first time since my return I felt like our relationship was back on solid ground. We were comfortable with each other again, even if the fact that I escaped the hangover she was enduring this morning caused her no end of annoyance.

“It’s possible,” Bruce agreed, hiding a smile that told me Melanie’s condition hadn’t escaped his notice.

“Great,” Rhodes muttered. “That’s all we need, a super-scientist.”

“Not super,” Bruce corrected. “Merely…how did you put it? Sprightly for his age.”

“So who recruited him?” Wanda asked, frowning. “The Russian government, the KGB, or Hydra?”

“I’m almost certain he was already working for Hydra by that point,” I answered thoughtfully. “And I’m equally certain that Madame B wasn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Maria asked, looking sceptical.

I shrugged. “Several reasons. Firstly, there was nothing Hydra-related on Madame B’s computer, only on those from the bunker, which suggests that the lab was run by Hydra but not the Red Room. If it had been, I would have been taught to ‘hail Hydra’, and I wasn’t. From what I can gather from her files, and from what I observed, Goravitch had no official status or rank within the KGB at that time; the way he was allowed to come and go between the Red Room and this other mysterious facility of his suggests he was somehow outside the KGB’s jurisdiction. There’s no way he would have had so much freedom if he had been under Madame B’s official command, and certainly no way he would have dared argue with her as I heard him doing. I got the feeling he was less of an underling than a guest. Someone the KGB were sheltering in exchange for services rendered.”

“But if he was just a guest,” Rhodes said slowly, “what changed? How has he now suddenly got a rank high enough to order an agent to abandon a post at the Home Office?”

“Hydra must have taken over the organisation, it’s the only explanation,” I answered wearily. “At some point in the last twenty years, there must have been a major change in management. Maybe it was peaceful; we know there was a Soviet division of Hydra, and it wouldn’t surprise me if both the Russian government and agencies like the KGB were riddled with members. Maybe over time their numbers multiplied, and they grew to be the strongest majority. Or maybe there was some kind of coup. We have no way of knowing, and at present that isn’t important. What matters is _why_ the KGB were so keen to play host to one of Hydra’s mad scientists.”

“I think we can be fairly sure of the answer to that,” Bruce remarked. “He was cast out by the university for indecent and unethical practices; I’m almost certain he was already experimenting on humans at that point, and all the disappearances and trails of bodies wherever he went after that proves it; they were his lab rats.” The disgust in his tone was tangible. “Hydra have always considered human enhancement their meal ticket to world domination. They were sure to take an interest in what he was doing as soon as it came to their ears. Meanwhile, I’m sure the Russians probably had their own reasons for wanting to create a super-soldier. Perhaps they decided to pool their resources.”

“That would fit with what Wanda and I found on his hard drive,” Maria commented. She stood up in her turn, bringing up a different set of files. “We found records of top-secret projects going back to the early eighties, all jointly funded by Hydra and the Russian government, and all of them centred around human enhancement.”

“Did his files say if any were successful?” I asked tensely. We had, after all, living proof sat at our very table that Hydra had managed to create enhanced before, although thankfully Goravitch lacked the advantage of having an infinity stone to play with, as Von Strucker had had when he created the Maximoff twins. Zola, too, back during the second world war, had had access to an infinity stone, concealed within the tesseract, when he had experimented on Bucky Barnes. Without such a power source, hopefully none of Goravitch’s experiments would have yielded fruit. Except for me, of course, but I shied away from that thought. I was hardly in the same category as Wanda. Although for some reason, Madame and Goravitch both seemed to think I was…

Maria grimaced as I pushed the disturbing thought firmly away.

“Yes and no,” she answered my question. “There was no mention of you, or not that we could find. A lot of them were flat failures. But there were a couple that caught my eye. One was something called Project Leviathan, in the mid-nineties.”

I pulled a face of my own. “I know that one. That was the project that created the other Winter Soldiers, the unstable ones that they had to trap in cryostasis. The ones that pyscho Zimo killed when he lured Steve and Bucky to Siberia for a showdown with Tony.”

Melanie and Bruce both glanced at me questioningly, not having been present for those events. I elaborated for their benefit. “Zimo was a Sokovian special forces operative. His family were killed in the battle against Ultron, and he blamed us. He couldn’t kill the Avengers himself, so he set us against each other, framing Bucky for the bombing of the UN summit in Vienna, knowing Steve would act to protect Bucky. For his big finale he lured Steve, Bucky and Tony to the base in Siberia, and then played them CCTV footage of Bucky killing Tony’s parents...”

“Ouch,” Bruce said, wincing. “So that was what they fell out about. I knew Steve’s friendship with Bucky was part of it, but I didn’t realise Bucky killed Tony’s parents… that’s harsh.”

“Howard Stark had been trying to recreate the formula that created Steve,” Maria took up the narrative. She rolled her eyes. “He and everyone else. But he at least had the advantage that he had the records of the blood samples that were taken from Steve at the time. He wasn’t anywhere close to the full formula, but Shield still thought it worth testing. However, the Winter Soldier intercepted Howard and his wife on the way to deliver the formula, killed them both and took the formula back to the base in Siberia, where several scientists had been recruited to try and produce new Winter Solders, Goravitch among them. Presumably Goravitch had already been experimenting with his own version for some time by that point. It looks like he combined his own concoction with Stark’s, and the mixture was given to five specially chosen KGB operatives. The serum _did_ work, to a point, giving them super-human strength. Unfortunately, it also drove them insane. They rioted, killing half the base’s inhabitants before they managed to subdue them, and Hydra were forced to put them on ice, and shut the project down. Looks like Goravitch got a severe rap on the knuckles for that, not that it seems to have discouraged him any.”

Bruce shook his head in disgust. “Don’t even get me started. Those notes on his serum we’ve been going through are horrible. That undesirable side effect I mentioned before? Severe psychosis. It turned up in every subject, and the amount of people he went through trying to isolate the element that was causing insanity was… just horrifying. Most of them weren’t Red Room trainees, not that that makes it any better. It looks like he went back to the old standby of homeless people and unfortunates like that for his regular lab rats. He only tried out the serum on a few unlucky trainees, ones that he was convinced were strong enough to survive it. Most of them died anyway, and the ones that didn’t went totally cuckoo. He just wrote it all down as though it was all fascinating, like it didn’t bother him at all to watch a teenager bang his own head against the wall until he smashed his skull open.” He shuddered. “If anything, I’d say he enjoyed it.”

“I’ll second that,” Rhodes muttered, shuddering. “You think those notebooks were bad, you should try reading the trainee case files. You’re right, most of them didn’t get dosed with serum. If anything, that makes it worse. This wasn’t research… this was more like a hobby. Something he did for fun.” He looked like he was about to vomit. “The things he did to those kids, just because he could, and the way he wrote about it, like he was critiquing their suffering…” He swallowed hard. “The man isn’t human.”

I forced a grim smile. “You won’t get any arguments from me.”

There was a very uncomfortable silence.

Gritting my teeth, doing my best to ignore the sudden flurry of pity-filled glances in my direction, I forced myself to continue. “You said there were a couple of projects that caught your eye?” I prompted Maria. “What was the other?”

“They called it Project Sunrise,” Maria said, and I only just managed to supress a choke, my heart skipping a beat. “Bruce and Mel might have more specifics; I only found a few vague reports, but what got my attention was the timeframe. The reports were spread over years, the earliest from 1987, and the most recent only a month or so before you went back. None of them say exactly what it involved, but the overall sense I got was that the project was at least partially successful.” She looked inquiringly at the two scientists.

They both nodded glumly, neither of them appearing surprised.

“Yes, it’s all in his notes,” Bruce confirmed. “It was his most long-running project, he had an entire casebook devoted to that alone.” He pulled a face. “It’s one of his more obscene efforts.” He looked a little greener than usual, as though utterly nauseated by whatever he had read.

My heart sank into my boots.

“By the mid-eighties, Goravitch had been tinkering with his serum for some time, but nothing he tried seemed to prevent the subjects going insane. So he requested, and received, four sixteen-year-old female Red Room trainees on which to trial a new experiment. He artificially inseminated each of them, then injected them with his serum at various points during their pregnancy.”

“He did _what_?” Rhodes exploded, his voice hoarse with outrage.

“Oh man,” Sam exclaimed in disgust. “That is just _wrong_!”

The others made noises of revulsion. I just swallowed hard, too overcome with horror and pity to make a sound.

Bruce ploughed on doggedly. “His idea was that the mother would act as a buffer, passing on the enhancing qualities of the serum to her offspring but not the unfortunate side-effects.”

The others all made noises of disgust and dismay; all except Wanda, who cast me a surreptitious look out of the corner of her eye, no doubt sensing my distress like a beacon.

“Did it work?” Maria asked in hushed tones.

Melanie took up the narrative. “Only one subject survived to give birth. The mother was completely insane, and was disposed of soon afterwards. The infant was placed in a local orphanage under close observation until she turned five. She had shown no psychotic behaviour by then, so she was brought back to the Red Room as a trainee, and Goravitch had been running a variety of tests on her as her training progressed. He seems to have been both pleased and disappointed with the result; the girl’s strength and reaction times were well above average, but not so startling as to be super-human. If he was hoping for something spectacular, like being able to hurl cars around, he was certainly disappointed, which may be why he thought it not worth the effort to try again. He does note that while there was no sign of psychosis, the serum _did_ seem to have affected her mind.” She frowned. “He theorised that exposure to the serum while developing within the womb had enlarged certain portions of her brain quite substantially – notably those that dealt with perception, sensation and memory. Her abilities in those areas, from all reports, were extraordinary…” She trailed off, blinking suddenly as though only now, saying it aloud, did she realise what it meant.

“Do we know who she is?” Sam asked, as Melanie cast a horrified glance in my direction that I studiously ignored. “Could she still be out there? Could she be a threat?”

“Her name was Tanya,” I said quietly, fighting to keep my grief hidden. It was probably a futile attempt, as my hands were clenched so hard on the edge of the desk my knuckles were white. “You don’t need to worry about her.”

“Tanya?” Maria repeated. “Wasn’t that the senior trainee they gave you to train? How can you be sure it was her?”

“It was her,” I said with miserable certainty. “Her powers of perception and memory were phenomenal. She told me herself she was treated differently than the rest, kept in the West Wing, and taken down to Goravitch regularly for tests. Plus, when I was going through Madame B’s files, I found her profile. That’s what it said under origin – Project Sunrise.”

Bruce leaned forward, his expression rapt, too keen to hear more details to register the strained note to my voice. “What was she like?” he asked eagerly.

I forced a thin smile, avoiding Melanie and Wanda’s eyes. “Remarkable. As strong as me, and as fast. Easily my equal in fighting. But it was her mind that made her unique. She saw everything, every tiny detail, and she couldn’t forget.”

“Couldn’t forget what?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Couldn’t forget _anything_.” I shook my head, trying to figure out how to explain whilst trying to ignore the painful twangs this conversation was playing on my heartstrings. “If I asked you what you had for breakfast yesterday, what would you say?”

“Erm… a sesame-seed bagel, I think,” he responded after a moments confused thought.

“How many sesame seeds were on your bagel?”

He looked at me like I was crazy. “How many – I’m sorry, what?”

“How many seconds was it in the toaster? What was the fourth ingredient listed on the packaging?”

He shook his head, bewildered. “Nat, nobody could possibly answer those questions.”

“Tanya could,” I said softly. “She could tell you exactly how many seeds were on top, she could list every item on the packaging, she could tell you exactly how long it took to toast. More, she could describe the kitchen down to the smallest strand of cobweb. She could tell you every item in the fridge, how many individual pieces of cutlery were in the drawer, and she could repeat, verbatim, every conversation that happened within her hearing. And not only could she do that, but if ten years from now, you asked her to look back at that specific moment, she would still be able to give you the exact same information.”

I had to smile, albeit sadly, at their stunned faces. “She saw _everything_. And it all got stored away in her head, automatically, like she was a living, high-definition video camera.”

“Good grief,” Bruce murmured. “And she grew up in that place… how on earth was she not driven mad?”

I winced. “I told you,” I said in a low voice, “she was remarkable.”

“And you think we don’t need to worry about her?” Rhodes asked incredulously. “Sounds to me like we should be _extremely_ worried about her! If she’s on team Hydra…”

“You don’t need to worry about her,” I repeated softly, staring fixedly at the table. “She’s dead.” Somehow I managed to keep my voice steady, despite the searing agony it caused me to say the words aloud. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, it was the only logical conclusion I could come to, the only practical explanation for why my exhaustive search had come up with nothing.

Tanya had never left the Red Room.

There was a silence.

“So where does Bucky Barnes fit in?” Wanda asked finally; I shot a grateful glance at her. I wasn’t sure I could stand to talk about Tanya anymore.

The others finally seemed to realise that my former apprentice was a painful subject for me, and quickly took up the new thread of conversation.

Maria pursed her lips. “Goravitch was assigned to work on Bucky Barnes on the occasions he was out of cryostasis, which was looks to have been every few years or so. There are long gaps between reports.” She pulled a face. “Officially, he was supposed to be trying to find a way of wiping his mind permanently, so they didn’t keep having to start over when Bucky started to remember himself.” She looked at Bruce and raised an eyebrow, inviting him to take over once more.

Bruce sighed. “Unofficially, he carried on testing his serum on him.”

I sighed. “I figured.”

Bruce nodded grimly. “Bucky was an ideal test subject, from his point of view. He was already enhanced enough that the serum wouldn’t kill him, and the memory supressing machine appears to have negated the insanity effect, wiping him and allowing him to start over each time.”

“Is that what he did with you?” Sam asked, looking at me. “Is that why you didn’t go cuckoo when he gave it to you?”

I felt another clench in my gut. “I’m not sure,” I said carefully. “But I don’t think so.”

Bruce shrugged uncomfortably, exchanging worried glances with Melanie. “His notes don’t mention you at all. Which is pretty strange, considering that you appear to be his one true success story. No-one else seems to have survived a direct influx of his serum without losing their marbles…”

“But we know he still hadn’t overcome the insanity problem by 2006,” Wanda said slowly. “And he must have given it to you long before that...”

There was another long silence. I could see they were all trying very hard not to look at me.

Bruce and Melanie exchanged glances again, and I sighed. I knew they had already come to the conclusion that was slowly dawning on everyone else. Goravitch had not perfected his serum, which left only one other variable in the equation – me. Somehow, something in me had allowed me to do what no other test subject had done, and survive his meddling with my sanity intact.

“You were different,” Sam echoed my thought, his eyes resting speculatively on me. “Somehow, you survived without going insane like everybody else.”

I shrugged, averting my eyes in discomfort. “I guess I did. But I don’t remember how I did it, so there’s no point discussing it.” I firmly steered the conversation back to more immediate concerns. “What about this other facility where he was working on Bucky? If that’s not where he’s hiding now, I’ll eat my suit. Did anyone find anything that could give us a clue to its location?”

They all shook their heads.

“Nothing,” Maria said regretfully.

Frustrated, I stood up and began pacing. We knew a lot more about our enemy… but still not enough. If the intelligence I had paid so dearly for couldn’t lead us to Goravitch’s hiding place, it had all been for naught.

“Could they be using the Siberian facility again?” Wanda suggested tentatively.

“Seems unlikely considering they know we know about it,” Maria pointed out.

I chewed my lip. “Sam, Rhodes, take a team and check it out anyway. We never got around to exploring it thoroughly. Even if it’s not active, there might be something left behind, some clue as to where other Hydra bases might be.”

“Whatever information we find there, we’ll have the same problem as we do now,” Sam said morosely. “It’s twenty years out of date. We have no idea what went on after 2006.”

“So we need to find out,” I said briskly. I looked at Maria. “I don’t suppose we know where Bucky is right now? If he spent time in Goravitch’s secret lair, maybe he can tell us where it is.”

“If he can remember,” Rhodes said sourly. “And if he doesn’t decide to go off on one and just shoot us all.”

“He’s not a threat anymore,” I said, frowning at him. Rhodes had never really forgiven Bucky for killing his best friend’s parents, nor for being the cause of the accident that had lost him the use of his legs. “T’Challa’s sister spent a couple of years undoing all the Hydra brainwashing,” I pointed out firmly. “He was Steve’s best friend. He’s not going to shoot us.”

“He shot _you_ on two separate occasions, as I recall,” Rhodes growled.

I rolled my eyes impatiently. “While brainwashed! He’s a good guy now. He fought Thanos with us, remember? Give him a break. We’ve all done things we regret. Or would you like me to go through the list of people I shot before I joined Shield? Because I’m betting I killed more people in four years than he did in fifty, but you don’t seem to have a problem with me!”

Rhodes winced. “Point taken,” he said uncomfortably. “Sorry, Nat.”

“Apology accepted,” I said calmly.

“I’m not sure where Bucky is now,” Maria admitted. “He vanished after Steve died. Never turned up for his funeral. There’s been no word of him ever since.”

I frowned, a little worried. “I hope he hasn’t done anything stupid,” I muttered anxiously. Bucky was a victim of unfortunate circumstances. Steve had been his only link to the man he had been before Hydra had gotten hold of him. I had to wonder, morbidly, if maybe he had decided to end his own life after Steve passed, if his body was perhaps lying at the bottom of the sea or some deep chasm where it would never be found.

Thankfully, that fear was quickly proven unfounded.

“Actually,” Bruce said, clearing his throat. “Bucky is in Wakanda.”

Everyone looked at him, surprised.

“Shuri let it slip while I was talking to her the other day,” he confessed.

I nodded my head in understanding. The Wakandan king’s sister, Shuri, was equally as brilliant as Tony Stark had ever been, and she and Bruce had clicked immediately when they had met, their mutual intellect making them instant friends. Bruce had been nagging me for months to give Melanie some leave so that he could take her to Wakanda to meet her. I knew Melanie was eager, but thus far other things had taken precedence over a group of big brains getting together to chew over the mysteries of the universe.

Now that I thought about it, Wakanda was the obvious place Bucky would have gone. He had spent a couple of years there before Thanos, while Shuri undid the decades of programming Hydra had left in his head. With Steve gone, it had probably been too painful for him to stay here, and Wakanda was probably the only other place he felt he had friends. Certainly T’Challa must value his friendship, if his gift of a vibranium arm before the first battle with Thanos was any indication.

“Great,” Sam exclaimed enthusiastically. “We can take a trip to Wakanda instead of Siberia! I’ll take African heat over sub-zero blizzards any day!”

I gave an evil chuckle. “The African heat can warm you up after Siberia. Bucky isn’t likely to wander off. We have time for you to check out that base first.”

Sam groaned in dismay. “Damn it. Why do these places always have to be such frozen hell-holes?” he grouched. “Why do villains never build bases in nice warm, tropical spots with white sand and palm trees…?”

I laughed. “You’ve seen too many Bond movies. Anywhere like that is too full of sunbathing tourists. No one wants to go to the frozen hell-holes, so they make perfect places to build top-secret facilities.” I grimaced. “It’s just a little unfortunate for us that Russia has a _lot_ of places that meet that description.”

“Well, I guess we have to start somewhere,” he sighed, getting to his feet.

“Be careful,” I called after them as he and Rhodes left the room.

Bruce got up too. “I guess Mel and I will carry on digging through Goravitch’s case notes,” he said reluctantly. “Unless you have anything else for us?”

I shook my head apologetically. “Not for you, no. Sorry, I know it’s not fun, but we need to know as much as possible about what we’re dealing with.”

He grimaced but nodded in resignation.

I fixed Melanie with a knowing stare. “You, on the other hand… when was the last time you trained?”

She started guiltily. “Er…”

“Use it or lose it,” I reminded her sternly. “This is no time for you to let yourself get out of condition. An hour a day, minimum, was what we agreed.”

“I’ve been busy!” she protested strenuously. “Between synthesising Pym Particles and having to sign autographs all day… My instructor hasn’t exactly been available much lately either…” she added grumpily.

“That’s no excuse,” I scolded. “You’ve been training for months now, you know what to do, you don’t need me to stand over you while you practice. Go change and get started. I’ll be down shortly to see how much you’ve lost in the last couple of weeks.”

She groaned dismally. “Nat, I feel like death!”

“Yes, well, if we get attacked and you’re not ready, you’ll do more than feel like it,” I said tartly. “Funnily enough, the bad guys don’t take pity and decide _not_ to try to kill you just because you have a headache. Hop it.”

Wanda exchanged a sympathetic look with her. “I’ll come with you,” she offered. “I haven’t done much lately either, what with all the sleeping.” She made to stand up to accompany her, but I waved her back into her seat. Melanie shot me a quizzical glance as Wanda sat back down, looking confused. However, she didn’t need the practice nearly as much as Melanie did, and I had something else I wanted to discuss with her. I shot Melanie a quick look at her unspoken question, indicating I would explain later. She nodded and gave Wanda’s shoulder a quick squeeze as she turned to leave.

Bruce held the door open for her. “You know,” he mused, “you could probably use your powers to get rid of that hangover. If you can speed up the chemical reactions to trigger cell-division to heal folks, can’t you speed up the reactions breaking down the alcohol?”

Melanie stopped short, looking stunned, then she frowned in disgruntlement. “Why didn’t I think of that?” she muttered.

I supressed a smile as I waved them on their way.

Maria stood up to leave too. “I’ll run back end for the boys.”

I nodded. “Thanks. Keep me posted.”

She followed the others, leaving me alone at the table with Wanda.

Wanda waited until the door closed. “You okay?” she then asked quietly.

I rubbed my forehead wearily. “Yeah. I guess. I just wish…”

“I know,” she said sympathetically when I couldn’t finish. She reached out and squeezed my hand. “But if Tanya really is dead… it wasn’t your fault, Nat. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

I looked away. Melanie had already said as much to me, several times. They could both repeat it till they were blue in the face, but it made no difference. The guilt I felt over Tanya’s fate was like a jagged wound in my soul; an ugly scar I would bear for the rest of my life. In time, the pain might dull to an ache, but it would never entirely heal. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted it to.

Wanda sighed, but she knew me well enough to know it was useless to press the point. “What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked instead.

I gratefully turned to a new subject. “I wanted to ask you something. How would you feel about going undercover again?”

Wanda’s mouth fell open in incredulity.

“Hear me out,” I said hastily. “I know your first experience wasn’t exactly fun, but I have to tell you… you were amazing at it. You are a phenomenal little actress. We are desperate for good field agents, and it would be a shame to waste your talent.”

She flushed, pleased at the praise. “What did you have in mind?” she asked warily.

“Nothing as sinister as the Red Room,” I assured her. I lowered my voice, leaning forward earnestly. “We need someone inside Stark Industries.”

She blanched. “You surely don’t think Pepper -!” she began hotly.

“No! Of course not!” I cut her off firmly. “Pepper is one of us. But her organisation is huge, and she can’t personally oversee it all. We rely on Stark Corp for so much of what we need to run this place... it’s a weak point. I suspect if Hydra don’t already have at least one agent in there somewhere, it won’t be for lack of trying.”

Wanda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right,” she acknowledged after a moment. “I hadn’t thought about it before, but… Hydra could do us a lot of damage from that direction, couldn’t they?”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “So we need our own agents on the inside to be on the lookout for trouble, and nobody is better suited to that than you.”

Wanda frowned. “You’re saying you want me to read people’s minds to check their loyalty? Without their consent?” She looked deeply troubled. “Isn’t that kind of… wrong? It’s not like the Red Room, where we _knew_ everyone there was up to no good. These are just ordinary people, doing their jobs.”

“It’s a grey area,” I admitted. “I’m not all that comfortable with it either, but we can’t ask their consent without warning a potential spy what we’re doing. I don’t want you to go violating their privacy right left and centre, delving into all their private thoughts and fantasies. I’m suggesting that you keep an eye out for any suspicious behaviour, and a mental ear open for any ‘shouted’ thoughts that seem hostile. If you have reason to suspect someone, _then_ dig a little deeper.”

She nodded slowly. “I guess that’s a fair compromise. I don’t like it much, but I see where you’re coming from.” She winced. “I don’t like using my powers that way. It feels… dirty.”

I smiled fondly. “I know. That’s the other reason I think you’ll be a good agent. It’s a fine line we walk a lot of the time. Sometimes we have to be careful we don’t lose ourselves, become as bad as the people we’re trying to stop. I don’t think there’s a risk of that with you.”

She reddened again, embarrassed but pleased. “All right, I’m in.” She frowned. “What about Mel?”

I shook my head. “You’re still an Avenger, and you’ll still work closely with her in public. Her abilities will be a great help when it comes to disguises and such, but Mel isn’t cut out to be a spy. She’s too honest, too… innocent. She doesn’t have the right instincts for it. Besides, R and D is her thing. This could be yours.”

She raised a finger warningly. “I won’t sleep with anyone. Or take my clothes off.” She smiled faintly at my grimace. “I’m not judging you, I’m just telling you there are things I am not prepared to do.”

“I don’t expect you to,” I said evenly. “There are plenty of situations that don’t require you to stoop to those kinds of tactics. This one should be relatively simple; we insinuate you into the organisation in a role that gives you the scope to go wherever you need to – I’m thinking health and safety consultant, something along those lines.”

Wanda snorted, but nodded. “Good idea. Alright, I’ll do it. When do you want me to go in?”

“Soon,” I told her. “But this is very different from the Red Room, and I won’t be there this time, so there’s some specific training I’d like you to have before you go in alone.” I smiled crookedly. “Call it a crash course in spy-craft.”

She chuckled. “Fine by me. You want to start now?”

I glanced at my watch. “In a bit. Right now I need to go and check on Mel, make sure she hasn’t sneaked back off to the lab before she’s done all her reps.” I rolled my eyes affectionately as Wanda laughed. “I’ll meet you back here in two hours. You can spend the time working on your alias. Try and come up with a character you would be comfortable impersonating; she needs to be different enough that you’re not recognisable, but not so different that you might slip under pressure.”

Wanda nodded thoughtfully, her quick mind already working.

I smiled. “Off you go then.”

Already absorbed in the problem, she barely acknowledged the dismissal, her forehead wrinkled in thought as she left the room.

Alone once more, I permitted myself a deep sigh, rubbing eyes that itched with weariness. My head was not a comfortable place to be these days, and sleep came with difficulty, if at all. There were simply too many things to worry about.

I cast a sidelong glance at my desk drawer, gnawing my bottom lip.

I had told no-one, not even Melanie, about the conversation I had overheard between Goravitch and Madame B. With more than enough to occupy my thoughts, I had pushed it to the back of my mind, but it was always there, like a diseased spot in my brain that festered and grew day by day. Today’s discussion had aggravated it, and now the questions filled my mind, refusing to be diverted.

What had Goravitch done to me? He had worked on me for six months, Tanya had told me, far longer than any other trainee. _How_ had I survived his serum without going insane? And, most disturbing of all, what was the ‘party piece’ Madame had referred to, the mysterious ability that apparently had only manifested under torture…

I had searched my memory relentlessly as I lay awake at night, furiously pummelling those walls around the deepest sections of my mind, but it was no use; the barriers were like iron, and I could not penetrate them. I couldn’t remember any more than I already had, and even those recollections slipped through my fingers like soap in a bathtub. I struggled to hold on to them.

I needed answers. I knew where I could find them, but that information would come at a price. I just wasn’t sure yet if it was a price I was willing to pay.

Slowly, I moved to my desk and unlocked my drawer, sliding it open to gaze in revulsion at the thick red file that sat within.

Melanie and Wanda were both adamant that under no circumstances should I read that file. They had quietly conspired with Maria to delete that section of the digital records, and I had only just managed to intercept the hardcopy before they consigned it to the incinerator. Despite their protests, I wouldn’t allow them to burn it, but I had locked it away, and so far had complied with their pleas that I leave it alone. The walls around my memory were there for a reason, they insisted, an instinctive defence my mind had erected to protect me. Breaching those barriers, forcing myself to confront the past I had supressed beyond even Wanda’s ability to resurrect, would have consequences. It wasn’t worth the risk, Melanie told me. No information that file could contain was worth risking my sanity.

I stared at the file, conflicted. I knew she was right. But she was also wrong; that file _could_ , almost certainly _did_ , contain information that might prove vital. Not about Goravitch.

About me.

What was I?

The question haunted me. I had thought I had known who I was, _what_ I was. An assassin. A killer. A spy. I might not particularly like it, but that was who I was, what I did better than almost anyone else in the world. Enhanced yes, a bit stronger and a bit faster and a little more robust than others, but not super-human. Even my slowed aging was so subtle it was only now becoming possible to detect. My skills in fighting and spy-craft weren’t unnatural; merely acquired and perfected through years of hard work and long and bloody practice.

I had never envied my friends their abilities. Though I knew there were people out there that considered my inability to call lightning bolts from the sky or fly or lift trucks with my bare hands made me an imposter, unworthy of being included in such an elite group as the Avengers, I had never felt any deficiency within myself. I knew my own worth, and it always seemed to me that such powers were as much a curse as a gift. Melanie’s example had only deepened that feeling; as amazing as her abilities were, I knew if there was a way she could be rid of them, shed the Angel and become simply Melanie Macdonald once more, she would do it in a heartbeat. Her guilt over the hospital incident, and the fear that she might be responsible for another such tragedy again in the future, haunted her constantly, and I knew Wanda and Bruce felt similarly. I had always been thankful that I didn’t have that additional burden to bear, glad that my own skills were completely within my own control.

Now, I wondered if I had counted my chickens too early.

_I have high hopes she will discover for herself what she is capable of… and when she does, the world will tremble…_

Madame B’s words whispered around my head, over and over.

I hunched, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to banish the voice, but it refused to be silenced.

One thing was abundantly clear; I was not who I thought I was. There was something else lurking within me. Something powerful. Something that Madame B had wanted control over, as much or even more than she had wanted Wanda.

I swallowed hard. Wanda was so gifted! Admittedly, Madame B had not known the full extent of her powers, but even so… The thought that Madame B considered me to be of even greater value than Wanda’s obvious talents made my blood run cold with dread.

It seemed impossible. How could I have powers? I was almost forty-one, for crying out loud. I had been an assassin and a spy and then an Avenger; I had been in life-threatening situations more times than I could count; I had faced impossible odds and alien invasions… how could I possibly have lived through all that, without the slightest sign of any extraordinary ability? Surely _something_ should have triggered it before now?

I didn’t have any answers. But I needed them. Madame B seemed to think that it was inevitable that at some point, my abilities would manifest. That recovering my memories was key to unlocking my potential. I might not remember everything, but I had been delving far deeper into my past of late than I had ever done before, and I now _knew_ that there was something inside me. Was that knowledge enough to trigger it? And if it was… Goravitch had sounded doubtful that I would be able to control it… would I become a danger to the people I loved? Could my very presence be a threat to their safety?

I didn’t know.

Not knowing was intolerable.

 _Then give this file to Bruce, and Melanie_ , a little voice in my head told me logically. _Tell them what you heard, what you fear. They are the experts, they can read it, find the answers you need._

I had worried my lower lip to the point where I could taste blood. Its metallic flavour did nothing to ease the sour taste of reluctance in my mouth.

I wasn’t sure I could bear the thought of subjecting either of them to this. The records of six months of torture was hardly going to make pleasant reading material, even if they didn’t have such personal ties to the victim. To force them to read every excruciating detail of what had been done to me would be cruel beyond words, and for what? To spare me pain? Would it spare me, when I would see the knowledge in their eyes every time they looked at me, see their horror and pity… even without the specifics, I would still suffer, and in a way I particularly despised. I hated the very thought of their pity. The sidelong glances I was already enduring from the team were hard enough to bear.

No. If anyone was going to find answers in this file, it would have to be me, and me alone.

I closed the drawer abruptly, relocked it, and turned away.

Now was not the time. Right now, Melanie was waiting for me in the training room. I felt relief as I left my office and hurried towards our quarters to change. Her company, and a good workout, were exactly what I needed.

****

My session with Melanie did help distract me, at least for a while. She was no longer the clueless tyro she had been months ago. Beating her in a sparring bout was now a respectable challenge, rather than a foregone conclusion. She was quick, and athletic, and with her powers thrown into the mix, only my years of experience and her continued reluctance to go for a ‘killing blow’ gave me an edge. On this occasion, she successfully fought me to a stalemate twice before I finally managed to trick her into overextending herself in our third bout, enabling me to get in a blow to the head that would have knocked her senseless had I allowed it to connect. Overall, I was pleased with her performance, and forced to concede that neglecting her daily exercises for a week or two hadn’t cost her much. In a real combat scenario, I was confident that she would be able to hold her own. I was, after all, no ordinary opponent.

The thought soured my victory somewhat.

Melanie, sensing in her intuitive fashion that all was not well with me, coaxed me into accompanying her back to our quarters to clean up. Needless to say, we got thoroughly distracted in the shower, with the consequence that I was twenty minutes late for my meeting with Wanda. She merely rolled her eyes without comment, a faint smirk twitching at her lips, when I finally appeared. I tried to look contrite, but in truth I wasn’t a bit sorry for the delay. Coaching Wanda kept my mind occupied for the rest of the day.

It wasn’t until that night, lying in bed with Melanie fast asleep beside me, listening to her quiet breathing, that my thoughts returned to the file in my desk drawer. I chewed my lip in the darkness, unable to sleep. I restrained myself from tossing and turning with an effort, not wanting to wake the woman next to me, but my thoughts buzzed like a hive of angry bees, my brain refusing to switch off and let me rest. Finally, I slid noiselessly out of bed, grabbed a sweater and tip-toed out of the room.

I told myself I was just going to the kitchen to get a drink, and then I would go pace off my restlessness in the lounge or the training room until I felt able to sleep… but my feet seemed to have ideas of their own. Without quite realising how I had got there, I found myself opening the door to my office.

“Are you okay, boss?” Friday piped up in hushed tones. “It’s very late for research.”

“Secure office,” I ordered quietly, my throat tight.

A bluish glow flickered over the windows and door as Friday obediently activated protections against physical, visual and digital access to the room.

“Ah, boss,” Friday’s synthetic voice sounded worried as I unlocked my desk drawer and removed the red file. “You should know I have been ordered to alert Miss Macdonald immediately should you attempt to read that file.”

“Well, I countermand that order,” I said curtly. “You will do no such thing, or I will shut you down, permanently, you hear?”

“Yes boss. But boss -”

“Hush,” I cut across her sternly. “I know all the arguments. I’m aware of the risks. This is my choice. I need to know. Whatever is in here, however bad it is, I’ll deal with it. But I need to know what he did to me. All of it. If there’s something in me we don’t know about, something dangerous, I have to know _before_ it becomes an issue, not after.”

Friday was silent. I waited a moment, in case she tried again to dissuade me, but there was no sound in the dark office except my own breathing, and my heart thumping against my ribcage.

Sitting down at my desk, I switched on the small reading lamp and looked at the fat file with loathing. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest until I had the truth. The full truth, no matter how unpleasant.

Taking a deep, calming breath, I pulled the file towards me, opened the cover, and began to read.

****

A few hours later, I emerged.

Instead of turning my steps to my quarters where my lover still slumbered peacefully, I made my way purposefully to the garage. The tyres of my corvette screeched as I blew through the garage door and out into the night. The headlights lit up a startled security guard, who dived out of the way. I mashed my foot on the gas pedal. Warned by the furious revving of my engine, the security detail on duty at the exit hurriedly opened the gates for me, otherwise I think I would have smashed right through them, in no mood to stop for anything.

I turned my aggression into speed, slamming my foot down and charging down the country roads. I threw the car around corners as though I was in the car chase of my life, feeling a grim satisfaction in watching the speedometer creep upwards. There was little traffic about at this hour, although a few horns blared angrily as I roared past them at over a hundred miles an hour.

Luckily, driving, even at these reckless speeds, was all muscle memory for me, not something I actively needed to think about. A good thing, because I wasn’t paying attention to the road. No matter how fast I drove, I couldn’t outdistance the pain. A thousand images flickered before my eyes; my heartbeat pounded in my temples. As Melanie had predicted, the dam I had unconsciously built so many years before to protect my mind had given way; a mere trickle escaping at first, then a raging torrent. It broke over me like a tsunami, sending my consciousness tumbling before it. I struggled for breath, drowning in a raging sea of poisonous memories.

The memories of my physical torture weren’t what I fled from, though I no longer wondered that my mind had forced me to forget those experiences. Torturing a single subject for so long was difficult, Goravitch had noted. There was only so much one could endure, after all, before the brain simply shut down, and the subject either fell unconscious or died. He had had to be… creative… to say the least, in his methods.

But what those methods had provoked…

I shuddered, and pressed harder on the gas pedal, though it was already flat to the floor.

The others were all wondering what made me special, how I had managed to survive Goravitch’s serum without going insane.

Now I knew the answer.

The answer was, I hadn’t.

Memory rose up like a wave, enveloping me.

_Leather restraints held my naked body immobile, made it impossible to escape the long needles embedded in my flesh. Red liquid boiled down a maze of surgical tubing, burned like fire through my veins. I screamed until my throat was raw, but it did no good to scream. The agony was unendurable, and yet I must. The only other choice was to die._

_Death was failure. Death was for the weak._

_I was strong. I would survive._

_A red-hot fury consumed me. My back arched, my muscles strained. I fought the straps binding me in a frenzy of rage and hatred, vowing a painful death for those who dared to do this to me. I would rip their throats out with my bare hands, with my teeth if I had to…_

_“Fascinating…” Goravitch’s voice purred. His cold, bearded face swam before me, studying me thoughtfully. As though making a decision, he stepped back, and made a curt gesture._

_My restraints were abruptly released. An unholy shriek of glee passed my lips, and I ripped free of the insignificant medical instruments, lunging for a white-coated human who unwisely lingered within reach. Fury and hatred and surging bloodlust overwhelmed my mind, left no room for any other sensation. Not pain, not even conscious thought._

_I came back to myself, in a windowless, grey concrete cell. Confused, I stared numbly at my hands, at the dried blood encrusted under my nails. Vague images flitted through my mind, disturbing flashes of a girl with auburn hair but an expression that was nothing human, tearing at something that could no longer be described as a body, ripping flesh apart with nails and teeth…_

_A voice came then, echoing through the slit in the metal door of my cell, asking me questions. I answered them all, though they made little sense. Not to answer was to fail, and failure was death. Perhaps, if my answers satisfied them, I would be released from this peculiar prison._

_My release came, but with it came more pain._

_Time became meaningless. There was no light down here, no way to tell if it was day or night. Food came infrequently, if at all, and gave me no means to judge how long I had been here._

_Hunger and thirst were my constant companions for a while. Then came intense cold, followed by blistering heat. Noise that made me feel like I would go mad if it didn’t stop, and pressure that made blood seep from my ears and my head feel like it would burst. Electricity surged through my body, setting every nerve afire; the rank, sickly sweet smell of my own burning flesh filled my nostrils. I lost track of the myriad ways my captors contrived to make me suffer. Nothing mattered except survival._

_I was strong. I would endure._

_Again and again I let my fury overwhelm my mind, allowing the bloodlust to blot out all thought and feeling._

_Over and over, I awoke in my grey little cell, unable to remember how I had come to be there, staring in confusion at the blood on my hands, to answer the same inexplicable questions through the metal door. The same image, of the auburn-haired girl with inhuman eyes, hovering on the edge of my mind, but vanishing whenever I tried to hold on to it._

Abruptly, I stamped on the brake, forcing the Corvette to a screeching halt in the middle of the road.

I rested my forehead against the steering wheel, seeing nothing of the view of New York’s city lights that twinkled on the dark horizon. The relentless torrent of memories finally ebbed, leaving only the worst images behind, like the foul aftertaste of bitter medicine.

I swallowed down the sobs that tried to shake their way up through my chest. Self-pity was a luxury I refused to indulge in. But the cold hard truth remained.

I wasn’t special.

I was cursed.

The serum _had_ driven me insane, just like all the others. I had become a monster; unhinged, merciless, mindless. A thing that was utterly savage and indifferent to pain; pain was irrelevant next to the all-consuming lust to kill. And Goravitch had let me kill, although after narrowly escaping with his life the first time he had let me loose, he had been careful to observe from behind thick steel barriers thereafter, for I had proved unstoppable by any other means. No-one, not trained fighters in armour, not even animal handlers with cattle-prods, had been able to subdue me; every living thing I came into contact with had been torn to shreds with the same bloodthirsty ferocity. Goravitch had been fascinated by the carnage I caused, documenting it in nauseating detail, even including photographs of the… remains… of the hapless assistants and other unfortunates he had purposefully locked into my prison with me.

I shuddered, shivering uncontrollably with chills. There was a lot in his written observations I didn’t understand, but the photographic evidence was gruesomely clear.

What made me different to all the others, however, was that for some inexplicable reason, I had recovered. I had gone briefly insane, become a demon incarnate, unstoppable… and then, just like that, it had all stopped. I had reverted to normal, regained my sanity, and evidenced no memory of what I had done. I had gone back to being just a trainee, just a girl in a cage… until the next time I was subjected to torture. Then the entire series of events repeated.

No wonder Madame B thought I was special… My lip curled in revulsion. I could imagine all too clearly the uses Madame B would have found for such a creature. I could only be profoundly thankful for the unconscious barriers my mind had erected. The damage I could have inflicted under the direction of someone as evil as Madame B didn’t bear thinking about. It was supremely ironic that Goravitch had, by his own methods, prompted those barriers to be erected in the first place, effectively trapping me in a state where I could not consciously control the manifestation, which could then _only_ be prompted by torture, which in turn reinforced those barriers. No wonder Madame had been angry. She had removed me from his clutches, clearly hoping that in time, another trigger would assert itself, one less traumatic, that would enable me to remember what I had done and gain conscious control over the process. Or if I couldn’t control it, at least provide her with a more practical method of provoking the reaction on demand.

I breathed a long sigh of profound relief that her hopes had never been fulfilled. Despite everything I had been exposed to, no other trigger had ever presented itself; the demon that was the personification of my hate and bloodlust had never manifested again. And if the _only_ way for it to do so was through torture, well, that was highly unlikely to happen around any of my own people. My friends were safe.

Safe.

I felt suddenly light-headed. I needn’t have worried; I hadn’t needed to read that file at all. The darkness in me was caged; the monster that recognised neither friend nor foe, that existed only to rip and tear and kill, was gone. I could relax, and forget about it…

Fat chance, I thought with a shudder. The images continued to play like an internal horror movie, one that refused to be switched off. Melanie might want to consider bunking with Wanda, because I doubted I was going to be getting much sleep for a while. It didn’t seem fair to let my nightmares keep her awake, just because I had ignored her warnings and pried into things best left alone. She was going to be mad enough as it was.

The thought awakened me to the fact that the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. I should probably head back and face the music. Heaving a sigh, I put the car back in gear and turned around. It took considerably longer to drive home, keeping to the legal speed limits.

I wasn’t particularly surprised to find Melanie waiting for me in the garage, sat on the bonnet of a land rover, kicking her heels against the front tyre.

Pulling into the space next to it, I killed the engine. I got as far as opening the door, then slumped over the wheel, suddenly feeling too exhausted to move.

“I take it you couldn’t sleep,” Melanie said conversationally. She cocked her head, her eyes full of concern. “You were fine earlier. What’s happened to make you all worked up?”

I didn’t answer.

Melanie slid down from the land rover. She viewed me silently for a long moment, hands on hips, then released a sound of frustrated resignation.

“You read that file, didn’t you.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

I closed my eyes, and reluctantly nodded.

She hunkered down, looking up at me with a pained expression. “Why? Why did you read it? Why couldn’t you leave it alone?”

“I had to know,” I whispered.

She bit her lip, gazing at me sorrowfully. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind that recriminations were pointless. What was done could not be undone. She stood up and offered me her hand. “Come on,” she said gently. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Wearily, I took her hand, and she pulled me out of the car, closing the door.

Much to my relief, the building was still deserted as we climbed the stairs and traversed the hallways to our suite. Melanie steered me into the bathroom. Regardless of the unholy hour, she ran a bath while I sat listlessly and watched her, filling the large tub with hot water and scented bubbles. She undressed me and ushered me into the bath; removed her own clothing and got in behind me. Cradling me lovingly, she gently washed me and kneaded my shoulders. Closing my eyes, I let the heat of the water and her deft hands soothe away my tension.

When the water finally cooled too much for comfort, she coaxed me back to bed, then made love to me with such consummate skill it left me gasping. Rather than chastise me for my pig-headed decision to disregard her well-meant advice, she did her best to distract me, to fill my mind with love and pleasure, so that when I finally slept, there would be no evil dreams.

I was very grateful, both for her forgiveness and her efforts.

Of course, the dreams still came anyway.


	3. 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and the team head to Wakanda in search of Bucky Barnes.

The quinjet soared through the invisible boundary of the illusionary jungle, and the city of Wakanda, sparkling skyscrapers spearing into the air around a deep blue lake, suddenly materialised before our eyes.

“Wow,” Melanie breathed as we soared past the mountain-sized panther statue.

“Kinda takes your breath away doesn’t it?” Sam commented.

Maria saw a landing platform and steered for it. Our welcoming committee was already waiting as she brought the jet in to a vertical landing.

“I can’t wait to see their faces when they see you,” crowed Sam, grinning at me.

I smiled ruefully. Maria had called ahead to warn the Wakandans of our imminent arrival, but I had forbidden her to mention me, in case the transmission was intercepted, so T’Challa and Okoye were about to get the shock of their lives. There was one mercy, Wakanda was still so isolated from the rest of the world, at least I didn’t need to worry about hiding my identity here. It was nice to leave the compound as myself for a change.

The ramp opened up, and I hesitated, looking around at the others.

“Just… give us a second, guys, okay?” I said quietly.

I walked down the ramp.

T’Challa looked just like I remembered, dark and handsome, flanked by the familiar figure of Okoye, his general, and his usual shaven-headed bodyguards.

“Commander Hill,” he began while my face was still concealed by the shadow of the jet, “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure –”

He broke off abruptly, his face going slack with astonishment as I emerged fully into the bright sunshine.

“Hello, T’Challa,” I said quietly.

He just gaped, speechless. Sam was right, his face was priceless. It was shame I didn’t have a camera handy.

Okoye pushed forward, her eyes like saucers. “Natasha?” she whispered, disbelieving.

I smiled at her. Okoye had served with the Avengers during the five years T’Challa and his family had been among the vanished. We had become good friends. I had a healthy respect for both her abilities as a fighter and her shrewd good sense.

“You’re not seeing things,” I told her gently. “It really is me.”

She came to attention and saluted, Wakandan style, fist over heart, glancing uncertainly between me and T’Challa. Suddenly realising that she might feel a conflict between her duty to her king and the duty to me, technically still her commanding officer, I shook my head slightly, letting her know that I relinquished any claim on her allegiance. She belonged here. She relaxed, looking relieved.

Meanwhile, T’Challa had regained his composure.

“Agent Romanoff,” he greeted me softly. He smiled warmly, his charm suddenly back in full force. “I am very pleased to see the reports of your death were exaggerated.” He glanced somewhat reproachfully at the others, who trooped down the ramp at that moment to join us. “Although it would have been nice to have that information sooner,” he added pointedly.

“I’m afraid that was my doing,” I said apologetically. “It’s a bit of a long story, but suffice it to say that in the current circumstances I prefer my survival not to be common knowledge.”

He nodded slowly, frowning. “These current circumstances you refer to… I take it that is why you are here?”

I inclined my head, indicating he was correct.

His focus sharpened. “Do I need to don my armour?”

“I hope not.” Seeing him tense, I added reassuringly, “I would have warned you if I thought coming here would bring an attack down on your people, T’Challa. It’s not that kind of circumstance, or at least, not yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can see we have a lot to catch up on.” He glanced over the others, noting the faces he had not met before.

I waved Maria and Melanie forward. “T’Challa this is my second, Maria Hill, and the newest member of our team, Melanie Macdonald. Ladies, meet the King of Wakanda, T’Challa, and his general, Okoye.”

They all nodded politely. Bruce had made a point of telling them that the Wakandans didn’t expect them to bow, with a dirty look at Rhodes for the joke played on him on his own first visit.

T’Challa waved us towards a large, teardrop-shaped building that seemed to be formed almost entirely of glass. We filed into a huge, airy room, full of sunlight, with a long table set with refreshments, and took seats at T’Challa’s invitation.

“So…” he said, pouring himself a drink from a jug and indicating we should serve ourselves. “Please don’t keep me in suspense, Miss Romanoff. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Tell me it’s not another alien invasion,” muttered Okoye darkly at his shoulder.

I sighed. “No, no aliens. This threat is all the old-fashioned depraved human variety. It’s a long story, but the short version is that an unfortunate consequence of my return was that we ran afoul of some old… acquaintances… of mine.”

“Acquaintances?” repeated Okoye questioningly.

“Her former employers, the Russian intelligence corps,” Maria explained. “We’ve been investigating one of their associates, a scientist by the name of Antonin Goravitch.”

“Who is an evil son of a bitch, and also turns out to be working for Hydra,” Sam added.

They exchanged glances.

“It was my understanding that the group known as Hydra was no more,” T’Challa said slowly.

Rhodes snorted angrily. “Yeah, well the bastards are like cockroaches. Every time we think we’ve stamped them out, another batch crawl out of the woodwork. We think the whole KGB may have been taken over.”

“And you think this scientist is their leader?”

I shrugged. “At the moment we’re not sure, but even if he’s not in charge, he’s somewhere high up in their hierarchy.”

“How did you come across this latest incarnation of Hydra?” Okoye wanted to know.

“Again it’s a long story, but we may have annoyed them slightly by torching their top secret training and research and development centre,” Maria replied ruefully.

“And by slightly annoyed, I assume you mean…”

“They want to kill us,” Sam confirmed.

I snorted. “Only if we’re really lucky.” As the Wakandans looked at me quizzically, I elaborated. “Antonin Goravitch is a psychopath with a yen for human experimentation, and a very unhealthy appetite for inflicting pain. Right now he’s nursing a very personal grudge against me, and another against the Avengers for destroying his lab breaking me and Melanie out of there. Believe me, he wants us alive, and if any of us fall into his hands, we will wish they had killed us.”

“He sounds delightful,” Okoye commented sarcastically.

Rhodes snorted again. “Whatever he sounds like, take it and multiply it tenfold,” he remarked sourly. “We’ve been stuck going through his research. You can’t even imagine the depths of filth. The man is a monster.”

T’Challa nodded thoughtfully, his eyes on me. “Have you come here to seek sanctuary, Miss Romanoff?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I grimaced. “Knock it off, T’Challa, can’t you just call me Natasha like everyone else? And no, to answer your question, I have not come seeking sanctuary. I have come seeking information.”

He looked startled. “Information? How so? We have no links with Russia here, we know nothing about this… Goravitch, or Hydra, or the KGB…”

“Oh I know that,” I assured him. “But I have reason to believe there is someone in Wakanda who _does_ know something about him, and about Hydra.” I leaned forward earnestly. “I need to speak to Bucky Barnes.”

T’Challa exchanged glances with Okoye, who shrugged.

He sighed. “Mr Barnes is here, it is true… he came to us after the death of Captain Rogers, sick in spirit. He is a deeply troubled man. You can try to talk to him, but I cannot tell you if he will answer. Even my sister can’t get him to talk anymore.”

“Can I see him?”

He sighed again but nodded, looking at Okoye. She stood up. “I’ll take you to him.”

I waved the others back into their seats as they moved to get up. “Better not mob him. You guys fill T’Challa in on all the details. I’ll talk to Bucky.”

I followed Okoye outside. She led me down to the lake, then along a narrow dirt path that followed the edge of the water, disappearing into the trees.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Okoye said unexpectedly, as I followed her down the path. She glanced over her shoulder at me. “I would like to hear the story, when you have time to tell it.”

“When time permits,” I agreed. “I promise.”

She nodded, satisfied with that. Reaching a clearing in the trees, she halted, indicating me forward with a gesture.

Sidling past her, I found myself at the edge of a meadow that sloped gently down to the lake. A small cabin stood backed against the line of trees on the other side. Shading my eyes, I scanned the area. A backless wooden bench stood near the water’s edge. Two people sat looking out over the lake, a woman and a man. The man was missing an arm, the sleeve of his shirt tied up out of the way.

I walked into the clearing. At the sound of my footsteps, the woman looked around, though the man didn’t move.

I stopped, trying to look non-threatening despite the fact I was wearing my suit, including my weapons. Shuri at first looked alarmed at the sight of me, then, as I didn’t move, she squinted. I saw her jaw drop as she suddenly recognised me. She scrambled over the bench and trotted over the grass towards me, her mouth still hanging open, her face one big question mark.

“Yes, it’s me,” I said before she could begin. “And, no, I’m not dead. At least, I _was_ dead, but only for a few minutes. It’s a very long story, and I’m afraid it’s going to have to wait. I need to talk to Bucky.”

Her mouth snapped shut. Her expression turned guarded.

I raised my hands. “I come in peace,” I said, in response to her suspicious look. “Don’t look at me like that, Shuri. I’m not here to arrest him or anything. He’s one of us. I need his help.”

Her face softened a little, but she grimaced. “Good luck,” she admitted. She glanced sadly over her shoulder. Bucky hadn’t moved an inch.

She sighed. “He won’t talk anymore,” she told me softly. “He talked to me a lot, when he first came. Told me all about Steve, about their childhood in Brooklyn, about how he used to rescue him from being beaten up by bullies, all about how desperate Steve was to join up to fight in the war, how he kept getting rejected. But then he got to the part when Hydra got hold of him, and he dried up. He talked less and less, and finally he wouldn’t speak at all, not even to say hello or goodbye. I keep trying, keep coming here to sit with him but… it’s like he doesn’t even know I’m here.”

She looked close to tears.

I squeezed her shoulder sympathetically. Inwardly, I ached for her. I made a mental note to make sure she and Melanie had a talk. Mel was so much better at this than me, though it made me realise just how much my perspective had changed since I met her. I wasn’t sure the old Natasha would have seen what I saw in Shuri’s eyes. I wondered if T’Challa knew his sister was in love with Bucky. Not that it was any of my business.

“He knows you’re there,” I told her gently. “Trust me. You’re helping him.”

I knew, without knowing how I knew, exactly what was going on in Bucky’s head. The trauma of losing Steve had torn aside all of the blocks around his mind, re-joined all the connections that the memory supressing machine had severed. His deep depression had sucked him in, and now he was trapped in a waking nightmare, reliving every hideous moment of brainwashing, torture and bloodshed over the last eighty years. I knew a good deal of what he was remembering, because it was all in the file I carried in the bag over my shoulder.

I patted Shuri on the shoulder once more, before easing myself past her and slowly approaching the man on the bench.

Bucky’s oddly gentle face twitched no muscle as I sat down beside him. He stared blankly out over the lake, his gaze unfocussed, his attention directed inward.

I said nothing for a time, gathering my thoughts, trying to find the right words.

“Hello Bucky,” I said eventually. “I don’t know if you remember me. My name is Natasha Romanoff. I’m one of the Avengers. I’m a friend of Steve’s.”

He didn’t respond. I didn’t really expect him to.

“I miss Steve,” I said softly, watching the boats far out on the lake. “I wish I could have spoken to him, hugged him one last time. I never got to say goodbye. Of course, I never expected when we set off to find the infinity stones that one of us would have to die to get the soul stone. Bit of a nasty shock, that one. Steve would have done it though, if he’d been there. Well, you know that. He was the most selfless person I ever met. He would have sacrificed himself to save anyone, but to bring you back? He’d have thrown himself off that cliff before anyone had chance to stop him. So I’m really glad he wasn’t there, to be honest. Clint was a lot easier to beat.”

I glanced sideways. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw a brief flicker of interest in Bucky’s eyes.

I looked back at the boats. “You’re probably wondering how I came to be here, after I threw myself off a cliff. It’s a pretty good story actually. Drama, romance, plenty of action. You really should wake up so I can tell you properly. Turns out, Steve wasn’t the only one to finally get a girl… you won’t believe this, but there’s this woman. Her name’s Melanie. She’s amazing. She has powers. She can move atoms around, rearrange molecules, even within the cells of the human body. She used her powers to heal me. Brought me back from the brink of death. And I only went and fell in love with her.” I chuckled. “Yeah, I know, another woman. I never knew I had it in me either. It’s a strange old world… I wish Steve could have seen us. I know he would have been happy for me, but I would have loved to have seen his face.”

Almost imperceptibly, Bucky’s lips twitched.

I considered my next words carefully. “Like I said though, it’s not all romance. There’s action in this story. And a villain. There’s always a villain, right?” I sighed. “Used to be the villain was me. Just like it used to be you. We have a lot in common, you and I. I don’t know how much Steve told you about me, but I have a past. A very dark past, just like you. And right now, it’s coming back to haunt me in a big way.”

A tiny crease appeared between his brows.

“It all began when I was a child,” I went on. “I was taken from an orphanage in Russia, and given to the KGB. They sent me to a place called the Red Room. You may have heard of it. I was raised there, trained, indoctrinated, to be the perfect assassin; a ruthless, merciless killer. I cared for nothing and no-one. Nothing mattered to me except the mission. I got on Shield’s radar in a bad way, and they sent Clint Barton to kill me. Instead, he convinced me that there was more to life than the mission. That everything they had taught me in the Red Room was a lie. He brought me into Shield, and I’ve been trying to atone for my crimes ever since, even though I know I never can…”

This time I was sure. A definite flicker passed across Bucky’s face.

“I didn’t realise at the time, but there was a lot I had forgotten about my time at the Red Room. Memories I had suppressed, because the experience was so traumatic. Tests and experiments they put me through, to see if I could be broken, to see if I could be enhanced. I know you will understand what I’m talking about. Because the man who tortured me, did similar things to you. A man named Antonin Goravitch.”

A tremor seemed to run through his whole body. Very slowly, he turned his head, and looked directly at me. His eyes were haunted, but aware, and I supressed a sigh of relief that I had succeeded in talking him out of his loop of depression-fuelled remembrance. I had to be careful though. The slightest misstep could send him plunging back into his catatonia.

I met his gaze calmly. “I know everything he did to you, Bucky. I know, because its all in here.” Very slowly, I pulled his file out of the bag at my side, and placed it on the bench between us. “These are his notes, that I stole from his private files. This is everything he did to you.” I took out the thick red folder, and placed it beside the other. “And this one, is everything he did to me.”

He shivered again as he looked down at the two folders for a long moment, then slowly raised his eyes back to mine. I saw recognition of our shared pain flicker in his gaze, kindling a small spark of empathy. A little more life crept back into his face, and he swallowed.

“This is why I’m here, Bucky,” I said quietly. “I need your help to track this bastard down. Hydra are back, and he is part of it, and he wants enhanced people. He captured Melanie, and I nearly died _again_ breaking her out of his secret lab underneath the Red Room. We destroyed the whole place, but he survived, and we don’t know where he is hiding now. But he’s out there, scheming away, and we need to stop him. None of us will be safe while he’s out there, not even here. I need your help, Bucky.”

His expression became pained, fearful.

“I know it hurts to remember,” I said gently. I grimaced. “Believe me, I know. But if we can do this, we can finally put it behind us. We can be free, just to be ourselves, to build a life, to find happiness, like Steve did. You can have a life here, Bucky. That girl over there, she cares deeply about you, she wants you in her life. And she’s in danger, her brother is in danger, my partner, my friends are in danger. Your friends too, if you let us be.”

His jaw clenched.

“Won’t you help me, Bucky?” I pleaded. “Won’t you help me keep them safe?” My voice hardened. “Help me make him pay for what he did to us.”

There was a long silence.

I resisted the urge to speak again and waited, giving him time to gather his thoughts, pull himself free of the mire he had been struggling through for so long.

Finally, he released a long sigh, and nodded.

“What do you need?” he croaked, his voice rusty from disuse.

I suppressed my elation, giving him a small smile to welcome him back to the world, before proceeding straight to business. “I need information.” I tapped my own file. “Goravitch did this to me in his lab beneath the Red Room. But that’s not where he did this to you,” I tapped the other file. “I know he had another facility, and I think that may be where he is hiding now. We know it’s not the base in Siberia where you were kept most of the time. We’ve checked it out, and there’s nothing there. There has to be another base. You were there, Bucky. I need you to tell me where it is.”

He grimaced. “Those files won’t give a location,” he said hoarsely, “and I can’t give you one either, because it was never fixed in one place.”

My jaw dropped. “Never fixed….” Realisation dawned, and I groaned and slapped my forehead, furious with myself for being so dense. “His facility is something that moves! That’s why there’s no location mentioned in the files. What is it, a ship? A plane? A truck?” My brain whizzed through the possibilities for tracking down any of those options.

He grimaced again, stopping my thoughts in their tracks. “None of the above.” He met my quizzical gaze grimly.

“It’s a submarine.”

*****

“A _submarine_?” Rhodes exploded, outraged.

“You have got to be kidding!” Sam echoed with equal dismay.

I grimaced. “Nope.”

Rhodes threw his hands up in disgust. “Well, that’s just great! It’s not enough we’re chasing an insane, sadistic psychopath; now we’re chasing an insane, sadistic psychopath in an untraceable death machine with _nukes_?”

Bucky shook his head. “I doubt he has missiles,” he said quietly. “From what I saw of the inside, the sub had been extensively modified.”

“Hmph,” Rhodes grunted, looking a little happier, but not much.

I absently pulled a chunk of bread to pieces in my fingers, thinking hard.

Once Bucky had come around, I had retreated with Okoye for a prudent interval while he and Shuri had an emotional reunion. Okoye had limited knowledge of submarines, Wakanda being a landlocked nation, so I had given her a potted history while we waited. She had muttered words I was quite sure were not polite under her breath in her native tongue as I explained their broad capabilities.

A little while later, Bucky had appeared along the path, his gleaming vibranium arm back in place, Shuri at his side. Shuri had looked torn between blissful happiness at having him back, and deep dismay at the reason for his reawakening.

We had returned to the teardrop building, where the others were finishing bringing T’Challa up to speed with recent events. T’Challa had looked genuinely pleased to see him, although I caught a hint of resignation in his gaze as he looked at his sister. I got the impression that the king was not ecstatic about her choice, but that he wasn’t going to risk her ire by trying to dispute it. I smiled inwardly. Shuri was strong-willed, and brilliant, and no doubt T’Challa would be firmly put in his place if he thought he could tell her who she should or shouldn’t associate with, king or not, older brother or not.

He, Sam and Wanda had greeted the former Winter Soldier warmly; Rhodes and Maria slightly more guardedly. Bruce and Melanie were indifferent, not having the same history with him as the others, and Bruce was far more interested in finally being able to introduce Melanie to Shuri. The three of them were already fathoms deep in scientific jargon.

I looked at them now, knocking firmly on the table to get their attention.

“Come on you three, give me something. Bruce, you tracked the tesseract, surely you can find a common or garden nuclear submarine?”

Bruce pulled a face. “The tesseract emitted gamma radiation,” he reminded me sourly. “And also, it wasn’t underwater. It was pure chance Howard Stark found it in the ocean in the forties while he was looking for Steve’s downed jet, and you’ll notice he never found _that_. The sea is the least explored wilderness on Earth. We know more about the surface of the moon than we do about our own oceans. Even with today’s technology, locating anything more than a few metres under the sea is… almost impossible, unless you can narrow down the search area. You can sweep small areas using sonar and things like that, but it won’t show up on radar or satellite tracking while its submerged, and there’s no way to systematically sweep the whole ocean to find one sub, not even by satellite.”

I sighed. I had expected that, but I had still hoped that their brilliance could come up with a solution.

“It can’t stay submerged all the time, though, right?” Wanda suggested thoughtfully. “I mean they must have to come up fairly regularly to resupply?”

“Not that regularly,” I said gloomily. “Most subs can easily stock three months food supplies, more if they only have a skeleton crew. They are designed to produce their own water from seawater, and depending what class of sub it is, it could feasibly go years without needing to refuel.” I glanced questioningly at Bucky, who shook his head in apology, indicating he didn’t know what type of submarine we were dealing with.

“It was big, that’s all I know,” he said.

“They might need to come to the surface to communicate?” Rhodes suggested.

Bruce nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. It’s almost impossible to transmit any kind of signal from underwater. I know Russia does have an ELF site near Murmansk that is capable of communicating with submerged vessels, but it would only be very simple messages. A few words at most. If they need to exchange anything more elaborate, they will have to come up for air.”

“As soon as they come up, if they are anywhere within a hundred miles of a navy vessel they will show up on their radar,” Rhodes pointed out. “It’s a long shot, but maybe I could put a few feelers out with the military, see if they’ve spotted any blips on the scopes lately…”

I smiled mischievously. “You could. Or…” I pulled the state-of-the-art smartphone Maria had supplied me with out of my pocket. “T’Challa, you don’t mind if I use your Wi-Fi, right?” I asked sweetly. My thumbs were already flying, typing quickly.

Rhodes groaned. “Tell me you are not doing what I think you’re doing.”

Melanie grimaced. “Pretty sure she is.”

Shuri laughed in delight.

There was silence for a short interval while all eyes watched me work.

“Here we go,” I said in satisfaction. “US Navy, radar data, readings of unidentified vessels in the last six months…”

Sam looked impressed. “No way, you did not just hack the Pentagon in two minutes flat from an iPhone!”

“Of course not,” I said dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Rhodes looked relieved.

“I just accessed the back door into their systems I created a few months back,” I explained, unable to resist a smirk as Rhodes went purple.

“You do know we’re trying to convince the Ministry of Defence that we’re on their side, right?” he demanded, scowling.

I rolled my eyes. “We _are_ on their side. I’m not _sabotaging_ them, for crying out loud! I’m simply being efficient, accessing information they would give us anyway, but removing the need for you to go through endless meetings, long and tedious explanations and reams and reams of red tape. You’re welcome.”

He bristled, opening his mouth to answer back, but I was spared the argument. At that moment, Okoye received an urgent message over her wrist communicator.

We all looked over at her at the unexpected beeping noise. She frowned, then her eyes widened as she scanned the message. She gave a vehement exclamation.

T’Challa tensed, straightening from his relaxed slouch in the chair where he had been watching us with some amusement.

“What is it?” he asked sharply.

“There’s been an attack at Nairobi airport,” Okoye reported. She gave T’Challa a significant look as she showed him the message.

He shot to his feet, his dark face turning several shades paler.

I looked at them, puzzled as to the extent of their reaction. “Did you have people in Kenya?” I asked. The first time we ever crossed paths, it was because Wakandan outreach workers had tragically got between us and a suicide bomber in Nigeria…

He nodded. “A team delivering trade goods. Obviously we can’t trade here, so we had an arrangement to make the transfer in Nairobi. We sent the goods by road, to be transferred to the client’s aircraft at Nairobi airport.” He turned quickly to Okoye, snapping a few quick orders in their native tongue. She nodded tersely and hurried off.

T’Challa turned back to me. “We need to get there, fast,” he told me.

“We?” I repeated, surprised.

“You’ll want to come too. The aircraft that was hit was the one we were meeting. It belonged to Stark Industries.”

I felt my own face drain of colour. “It was one of Pepper’s?”

“Yes.”

“Was she on it?” I asked urgently, as the others all exchanged alarmed glances behind me.

“Not her, but one of her representatives.”

I breathed a quick sigh of relief that Pepper was safe, but this was clearly serious. I hadn’t seen T’Challa this agitated since we had been attacked by a horde of man-eating aliens.

“All right,” I agreed. “Get what you need, we’ll get the jet prepped. Two minutes.”

I hustled my team back to the jet as he shot off. Maria slid straight into the cockpit, flipping switches, getting the aircraft ready to leave.

“Suit up,” I told Sam and Rhodes. They were the only two not already in full gear. “We might be needed.”

Precisely two minutes later, T’Challa came striding up the ramp, having discarded his fine clothing for his Black Panther armour. Okoye followed, ushering three other Wakandans carrying medical equipment. She glanced over everything quickly, then nodded to me.

“All right, Maria, we’re good to go,” I called. “Get us in the air.”

The ramp closed up; the five huge engines burst into life with a roar. Maria hauled back on the stick, sending us zooming into the air.

I threaded my way to the cockpit. “ETA?” I asked her.

She checked her instruments. “At full speed, twenty minutes, but getting permission to land is going to be tricky if they’ve just had a terrorist attack.”

I shook my head. “Then don’t ask. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission. Cloak us, and land as near the site as possible. Just don’t hit anything.”

She looked at me scornfully. “Like I would.”

I smiled. “Oh yeah? Wing mirror, corvette, ring any bells?”

“Oh for the love of peace, that was _one_ time!”

I laughed, and retreated into the back. “ETA twenty minutes,” I announced. I turned to Melanie. “Dearest, would you mind giving me a makeover?” I asked, batting my eyelashes theatrically. “I didn’t bring any supplies, and I simply can’t face my public looking like this.”

“Of course, darling,” she gushed mockingly. “Would you prefer the blonde bombshell or the femme fatale look today?”

“Oh I don’t know,” I pretended to simper. “Surprise me.”

She chuckled and loosened my braid as I presented my back to her, running her fingers through my hair.

“Is this really the time to worry about your hairdo -?” Okoye began incredulously, then she choked as Melanie subtly rearranged the molecules in my hair, altering the colour. I pulled a hank in front of my face and eyed it critically. It was a rich dark brown, the colour of dark chocolate.

“Nice,” I said appreciatively.

“Keep still so I can do the rest,” she said, frowning, turning me to face her.

I obediently held my face motionless. She swiped a finger over each brow, then clucked her tongue thoughtfully over my eyes. I blinked, wrinkling my nose at the weird tickling sensation as the pigments in my irises changed.

“There,” she said, stepping back, “you’re done. But you’d better lose the suit.”

“Good point.”

I dug in a locker for the spare uniform I had left there. The men all coughed in embarrassment and hurriedly turned their backs as I stripped off.

Wanda sniggered, eyeing Sam with amusement.

“Get out of my head!” Sam muttered furiously.

“I can’t help it if you shout your thoughts,” she retorted, smirking. “But I’m sure Mel doesn’t need you to tell her how lucky she is.”

Melanie rolled her eyes; I smirked a little but otherwise pretended not to be aware of the embarrassing situation some of the men found themselves in. It was nice to know my body still had the ability to make men’s eyes pop. I zipped up the uniform. “All right gentlemen, its safe, you can look,” I told them condescendingly. I scraped my now-brown hair back into a tight bun at the back of my head, dug into the locker for a few hairpins to keep it in place, and then pulled on the peaked hat. I swung around to face the rest, assuming an ‘at ease’ position, feet apart, hands behind my back.

“How do I look?”

Okoye shook her head in admiration. “Totally different. I would never have recognised you.”

I grinned. “Excellent.” I checked my handgun and shoved it into the thigh holster. “Maria?”

“Almost there,” she called tersely. “Two minutes.”

It wasn’t long before the airport came in sight. It was easy to locate. The dark plume of smoke curling up from a blackened wreck on the tarmac was a dead giveaway. Fire trucks and flashing lights were everywhere.

“T’Challa, they may not be very happy when we turn up uninvited,” I murmured. “You want to scare up some diplomatic immunity?”

He nodded, removing his helmet so his face was clearly visible. “They cannot prevent me from getting to my people,” he said grimly.

I hoped fervently that his people were still alive to get to.

There was a stir of alarm below as Maria uncloaked the jet, coming in to a vertical landing beside the wreckage. Armed men in the uniform of the Kenyan army rushed into formation, forming a suspicious semi-circle of rifles at the foot of the ramp as it opened.

There was consternation as T’Challa stalked into view, followed by Okoye and the Wakandan medical crew.

“Maria, stay at the controls, and be ready to go at a moment’s notice,” I said quietly. “Bruce, Rhodes, wait here in case we need back up. Mel, Wanda and Sam, with me.”

I sent them after T’Challa and the others, and followed them down to the concourse, a step behind as though I were merely an aide, perhaps a translator. There was another stir as we appeared. I heard the word “Avengers” being hissed excitedly from multiple directions.

T’Challa was having a quiet but insistent discussion with some harassed-looking officials, who didn’t seem to want to let him through. As the King of Wakanda was joined by three well-known members of the Avengers, the Kenyans finally wilted. They backed down, ushering us through the line of foot soldiers, into the frenzy of activity around the remains of a small plane, and the mangled remnants of an articulated truck.

Sam eyed the damage expertly, looking puzzled. “That’s weird.”

I nodded in agreement.

Wanda and Melanie looked as us both quizzically, not understanding.

I pointed. “Both the plane and the truck were attacked from the air.” I calculated, visualising the trajectory in my head. “I’d say a couple of short-range missiles, fired from around forty feet above the ground, over there.”

“A helicopter?” Wanda suggested.

I shrugged, perplexed. “It would be difficult for an armed helicopter to get this far inside the boundaries of a commercial airport, but I don’t have any better ideas.” I glanced around the area, noting in passing that Okoye had left T’Challa’s side and was examining the wreckage closely. “Wanda, Sam, see if you can find any witnesses, find out what they saw. Mel and I will go see if there were any survivors.”

They nodded. Melanie walked a half-step in front of me to the cordoned off area, where a dozen emergency ambulances stood, lights flashing. Melanie choked slightly as a line of covered bodies came into sight. I pressed my lips into a grim line. We made our way to T’Challa’s side. He was speaking urgently with a Kenyan paramedic. Several others worked over a dark young man on a stretcher, covered in blood and hideous burns.

T’Challa raised grief-stricken eyes to mine as I joined him.

“There is only one survivor,” he said woodenly, indicating the man on the stretcher. “Only one, out of the ten I sent. Your friend’s people are all dead as well. And this one may not make it.”

I gave Melanie a significant glance.

She nodded. Moving to the young man’s side, she placed her hand on the shoulder of the nearest paramedic, who looked up and gaped in amazement to find the Angel standing beside him.

“You know who I am?” she asked him quietly.

The man nodded vigorously. “Please,” he said, indicating the injured Wakandan. He added more in his own tongue, then said in broken English, “he bleeds.” He gestured at his chest with an anguished expression, indicating the young man was bleeding internally, and he was helpless to prevent it. He and his colleagues backed away, watching her reverently.

Melanie laid her hand on the young man’s chest and closed her eyes.

“What is she doing?” T’Challa muttered to me.

I smiled. “You’ll see.”

Okoye reappeared at his side, raising an eyebrow as she took in the sight of the unconscious man and Melanie, with the paramedics watching and whispering excitedly to one side.

“The goods are gone,” she reported quietly to T’Challa.

He nodded grimly, unsurprised.

I opened my mouth to inquire what had been stolen, then paused as Wanda and Sam hurried up to us, expressions grave.

“What is it?” I asked them.

“It was a quinjet,” Sam said urgently. “A cloaked quinjet, just like ours. That’s why we were met with a firing squad. There are some witnesses giving statements over there, they’re jabbering away in Kenyan, but Wanda got the gist out of their heads.”

I looked at Wanda. She nodded grimly. “I saw what they saw, in their heads. One minute there was nothing, then it was like the air moved, and a quinjet uncloaked, hovering right where you said, about forty feet above the ground, fired two missiles, and then cloaked again and disappeared.”

I swore.

“How is that even possible?” Sam asked me.

I ground my teeth. “Either someone has stolen the plans and built their own, which seems unlikely, or one of the other jets has gone missing. There aren’t many left. We would know if it was one of ours, Pepper would have told us if it was one of hers… but several were taken over by the US Air Force when Shield fell. I’m willing to bet big money the Air Force has suffered a major hit recently, and is covering it up. So much for closer working relations…”

“So who has it now?” T’Challa asked soberly.

I looked at Sam and Wanda, but they shook their heads.

“No-one saw anything other than the jet itself,” Wanda said apologetically.

I chewed my lip. “Then we had better hope your man can tell us more when Mel finishes patching him up,” I said to the two Wakandans.

They glanced down in astonishment, then did a double-take.

The young man was breathing naturally, his skin a healthier colour, although he already appeared somewhat shrunken as his reserves of body fat were converted to energy. The horrific burns and gashes that had covered his body were gradually smoothing over, new skin knitting them closed under the mesmerised gaze of the ecstatic paramedics.

“That’s… incredible,” Okoye breathed. She cast a sharp glance at me. “Am I right in thinking we have her to thank for the miracle of your presence?” she muttered quietly.

I smiled. Trust Okoye to put the facts together faster than a speeding cheetah. Her intelligence was as sharp as her spear. “You would be correct.”

Melanie stirred, drawing a deep breath as she opened her eyes. “That’s the most I can do for now. I’ve used up most of his energy reserves,” she said wearily. She managed a small smile. “You warrior types and your bulked-up protein physiques. It’s a hell of a lot easier healing a fat guy.”

“Can’t you wake him up?” I asked, disregarding the remark. “We need him to tell us what happened.”

She shook her head regretfully. “He’ll have to stay in a coma until we can get more nutrients into him. There’s barely enough energy left in his cells to keep him alive. If we wake him up now, it will kill him.”

Okoye nodded, then looked sadly in the direction of the covered bodies.

“I’m sorry,” Melanie mumbled, following her gaze, anguished. “I wish I could but… its already been too long. More than a couple of minutes after death, the cellular deterioration is irreversible. Maybe if I’d been on the spot when the attack happened, I could have saved some of them…”

“You have saved this one,” T’Challa told her firmly. “That is miracle enough. We will take him home.” He sighed. “I will send another party to reclaim the slain.”

We transferred the wounded man to one of the Wakandan team’s stretchers, and with a last smile for the paramedics, who took it in turns to pump Melanie’s hand enthusiastically with expressions of near worship on their faces, carried him aboard the quinjet. T’Challa had a hurried discussion with the army official, who nodded and began to move his men away from the jet.

As Maria set course for Wakanda, I took T’Challa and Okoye aside.

“What aren’t you telling me, T’Challa?” I asked him quietly. “The attack was clearly a cover to steal the cargo. What technology were you selling Pepper that someone would want so badly?” I could think of many wonders I had seen that Pepper would be eager to trade for. Wakandan technology was more than a decade ahead of the rest of the world, thanks in the most part to Shuri’s brilliance at exploiting their most precious resource.

He grimaced, shook his head. “Not technology,” he admitted.

I sucked in a breath. “Then… oh no.” If it wasn’t their technology they were after, there was only one other possibility.

“Yes,” he confirmed painfully. “Vibranium.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I thought you never allowed vibranium to leave Wakanda?” I said accusingly through gritted teeth.

The Wakandans had guarded the unnaturally strong, amazingly versatile metal zealously for hundreds of years. The one time previously that a ruthless gangster had managed to steal some, a homicidal robot had used it to create machines that had torn the city of Sokovia up by the roots, lifting it into an airborne asteroid, which he had intended hurling upon the Earth in imitation of the meteor strike that had wiped out the dinosaurs. If vibranium was once more in the wrong hands, I didn’t even want to think about what might be coming next.

T’Challa looked deeply uncomfortable. “Traditionally yes, that is so,” he replied. “But we owe a great debt to Tony Stark. He sacrificed his life to put our tribes, our way of life, back together. His wife approached us, and we agreed to trade. She swore an oath that the vibranium would not be used to create weapons. That it would be kept secret.”

Oh Pepper. I pursed my lips in growing anger. I was going to be having words with her.

“How much did they get?” I asked tightly.

T’Challa winced. “A quarter ton.”

I shivered. That much. This was fast becoming a catastrophe. We had to find out who was behind the attack, and what they planned to do with that amount of vibranium.

“Who would have known about the shipment?” I asked, keeping tight control of my voice. Our unknown enemy had known exactly where to strike, which meant that the ‘secret’ hand-over of goods had clearly not been secret enough.

He looked at Okoye, who shrugged. “On our end, very few,” she said. She met my eyes steadily. “And there is no way for any of our people to communicate outside of our borders without our knowing. The warriors escorting the cargo to Nairobi were ten of the most trustworthy in my command. I am confident that the leak is not at our end.”

I scowled. I had told Wanda only days ago that I suspected there would be hostile agents within Stark Industries. I had never been less happy to be proven right. “So we have a mole within Pepper’s organisation.”

She nodded apologetically. “It would appear so.”

The big question was, who was that mole reporting to? Was the vibranium now in the hands of Hydra, or did we have yet another enemy lurking in the shadows? I wasn’t sure which possibility was worse. Fuming, I stalked to the cockpit. “Maria, get hold of Pepper. She’ll need to arrange repatriation for the bodies of her trade envoys. And tell her I want her at HQ when we get back. I don’t care how many meetings she has to cancel.”

Maria glanced at me somewhat apprehensively at my tone. She opened her mouth, then shut it again as though she thought better of it and merely nodded.

I sat down in the co-pilot’s seat and glowered at the cloud formations as we zoomed at twice the speed of sound back to the hidden kingdom. I could feel the others’ apprehensive stares, but not even Melanie dared approach me to ask what was wrong. As we came in to land, I forced myself to calmness. There was no point agonising over possibilities. There was nothing we could do now, but wait for the lone survivor to wake.


	4. 4.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team are left reeling as Hydra make the first move, and Natasha discovers that her actions have terrible consequences.

Melanie stood with eyes closed, her hand gently laid on the forehead of the battered young clansman. After two days of the Wakandan doctors carefully drip-feeding him concentrated nutrients, she had finally judged it safe to complete her work, and allow him to wake.

Shuri watched avidly, barely containing her excitement. “This is incredible,” she exclaimed, eyes sparkling with scientific enthusiasm. Bucky stood behind her, silent but watchful.

Melanie’s eyes opened. The injured man stirred, his eyelids fluttering.

“Unbelievable,” Okoye breathed.

“Can he talk?” I asked Melanie.

She nodded. “But make it brief,” she added warningly. “He doesn’t have energy to waste on speeches.”

The man’s eyes opened and he squinted blearily, a look of confusion crossing his face at the crowd of strangers surrounding his bed.

T’Challa and Okoye leaned over him, speaking softly in their native tongue. He gasped something weakly in response.

T’Challa nodded and said something in a soothing voice, a question from the tone.

With what appeared to be a great effort, the man forced out a few meagre sentences in reply.

I heard a sharp intake of breath to my left. Glancing over at Wanda, I saw her staring at the injured man, eyes unfocussed. Her face had drained of colour.

My heart sank into my boots. Dreading what I was about to hear, I waited for T’Challa to translate.

“He says there were a group of white men, dressed in black, with face masks and guns,” T’Challa reported. “They had taken over the plane, he thinks before it arrived into Nairobi. They overpowered them inside the plane, out of sight.” His eyes narrowed. “He says the leader was a big bald man, totally covered in tattoos.”

My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms, drawing blood. Unwillingly, I glanced to Wanda for confirmation.

She nodded unhappily, indicating she had recognised the image in the man’s thoughts. “It was him. Vernon Skuler,” she said unsteadily.

Rage and frustration suddenly surged through my muscles. I grabbed a chair and hurled it across the room. Everyone recoiled, astonished and alarmed at my completely uncharacteristic display of temper.

Melanie hurriedly reached for me, placing a calming hand on my shoulder. I stared blankly past her concerned face, still trembling with fury.

T’Challa and Okoye looked disturbed, confused by the strength of my reaction.

“Who is this man, Vernon Skuler?” Okoye demanded.

“Goravitch’s right hand thug,” I said through gritted teeth. I looked at my team. “And that trading envoy was carrying a quarter ton of vibranium.”

There was a collective gasp of dismay. Melanie blanched, her fingers tightening on my shoulder, the same fear entering her eyes that I felt clenching my stomach.

“Oh boy,” breathed Bruce.

“Oh my god,” Maria murmured, horror-struck.

“Exactly,” I grated out. I fell into a chair and put my head in my hands. A quarter ton of vibranium, in the hands of Hydra… it was like a nightmare.

“That much vibranium…” Wanda murmured uncomfortably. “What the hell would they do with it?”

“Something really, really bad,” Sam muttered, looking pale.

“This Goravitch is a scientist, you said? Will he build weapons? Machines?” Okoye asked tensely.

I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“Not machines,” Melanie said bleakly. “He’s a scientist, not an engineer. I’m not saying Hydra don’t have engineers who might come up with that stuff, but if _he_ wants it, its for his own purposes.”

“Oh god,” Bruce looked nauseated. “All this time he’s been trying to create enhanced beings... You said it yourself, Nat, we destroyed his research, forced him to start over… so what if he’s looking for another way to push the boundaries of what a human can do..?”

I looked at him, extremely unhappy with where this conversation was taking us. “Ultron managed to make a body using vibranium and Helen Cho’s tissue regeneration cradle. The body that became Vision. Could it be possible to do that again?”

Bruce shook his head emphatically, glancing sympathetically at Wanda, who had gone very white at the mention of her lost love. “Vision was unique. It wasn’t just vibranium and synthesised tissue that created him, it was a whole combination of things, the mind stone, me, Tony, Ultron, Jarvis, plus Thor’s lightening to meld it all together. There’s no way Goravitch could create a being like that.” He swallowed hard. “But, when she was at the facility last time to look at you, Helen did talk to me about a theory she’d been working on, that vibranium could be merged with _living_ tissue. Her idea was it could be used to treat certain conditions, strengthen failing organs, but she theorised it _could_ potentially be integrated throughout an entire living being. Of course, it was all hypothetical, none of us would ever try anything like that on a human being…”

I felt blood drain from my face. They might have sound morals, but Goravitch assuredly did not. And if his thoughts had led him down that route, why would he waste his precious stolen metal with tedious trial and error when someone had done the groundwork already?

“Who else would have known about Cho’s theory?” I demanded, feeling a chill of premonition. “Who else would she have discussed it with, Bruce, other than you?”

He looked pained. “Probably someone within Stark Industries,” he answered miserably, confirming my fears. “Pepper is one of her main funders.”

I lurched back to my feet. “We have to get Seoul on the line, now!” I said urgently, cold with dread. “He’ll target Cho! We have to warn her!”

Maria was already on the phone. After a moment she shook her head. “No answer on her private number. I’ll try the research centre.”

I nodded mechanically, but something told me we were already too late.

****

“They must have gone for Helen as soon as they had the vibranium,” Bruce said sombrely.

Eventually, we had managed to contact Cho’s genetic research laboratory in Seoul, only to find it in chaos, reeling from an attack that had come out of nowhere. All reports said the same, a group of armed, masked men in black, led by a huge bald man covered in tattoos. From the descriptions, it sounded as though they had landed their cloaked jet on the roof and simply poured down into the building, avoiding all the security at the entrance on the street. Helen Cho was missing, several members of her team were dead or injured, a dozen pieces of valuable equipment had been taken and, to add insult to injury, they had downloaded a virus into their computer system, uploading a copy of all of their research while simultaneously wiping the lab’s own computers.

I sat with my head in my hands, feeling like I had been whipped.

After all these months of waiting, Goravitch had finally made his move, and as I had feared, the results were devastating. Hydra held all the pieces now, and we… we had nothing. All our efforts so far had given us naught but a few pitiful scraps of outdated intelligence. We couldn’t even mount a rescue mission because we still had no idea where they were hiding. There was no way to track a cloaked jet, Goravitch’s submarine could be anywhere, and who knew how many Hydra bases had been constructed in the wilderness in the last few years? We didn’t know if we were facing a small, insular group that had somehow survived our last attempt to exterminate them, or a wide-spread infestation as bad as the one that had brought down Shield. We didn’t know what their plans were. Hell, we didn’t even know who was in charge!

The rest of the team sat, miserably silent, watching me. I knew they were waiting for me to tell them what to do, to come up with a plan to deal with this. Their expectations only added fuel to the deep resentment simmering within me.

Maria walked softly into the room. I didn’t look up as I felt her move hesitantly to my side.

“Nat?” she said softly. “I got hold of Pepper, finally. She’s… pretty upset. I told her to come in. She’s on her way to the facility now.”

I raised my head. My anger suddenly coalesced into a tight, hot core in the centre of my chest as it focussed on a target. I stood up without a word and made for the door.

“Nat?” Bruce asked uncertainly.

“Get on the jet, all of you,” I ordered curtly. “We’re going home. I need to have a little word with Ms Potts.”

****

Pepper sat disconsolately in a chair in the residence wing lounge.

She looked up as we filed in, her face full of anguish. She lurched to her feet, opened her mouth to say something.

She didn’t get the chance, as I marched across the room and slapped her viciously across the face.

Her head snapped back.

She blinked back involuntary tears of pain and indignation as she raised her hand to her cheek, red finger marks already flaming on her pale skin.

“What the _hell_?” she yelped in shock.

“ _Vibranium_ , Pepper? Are you insane?” I yelled in her face. “What were you thinking? You really did step right into Tony’s shoes, didn’t you? Do you even remember Ultron? Do you even remember what happens when people meddle with things best left alone?”

God, I sounded like a shriller, more hysterical version of Steve.

“Easy, boss,” Rhodes muttered uncomfortably. The team stood around helplessly, tense with dismay at this unpleasant scene. Bucky and Shuri, who had accompanied us back to the facility, gaped at me in astonishment.

I ignored them, engaged in a desperate battle with my temper. My anger had smouldered the entire journey back; now it flared into an inferno. The heat of it felt like it was burning a hole in my chest, leaving my customary cool detachment in tatters. Pepper backpedalled swiftly as my fists clenched, and I fought back a shocking desire to beat her senseless, and beyond.

Bruce stepped between us, huge hands raised, face pleading. “Nat, please…”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I roared, rounding on him. “Two dozen people are dead, Helen Cho is worse than dead, and we have a psychopath on the loose with vibranium, all because _she_ couldn’t resist making a profit out of Tony’s sacrifice!”

Pepper’s face twisted, her own temper rising, and she shoved past Bruce to bellow at me in her own turn.

“How dare you! The vibranium wasn’t for profit! You really think I’d sell it? You really think I want another Ultron, or to help some military weapons specialist come up with new ways to spray death and destruction around? That vibranium was helping people, helping develop medical equipment, treatments, what hasn’t gone into helping _your_ team. You’ll thank me when the bullets start bouncing off your girlfriend, what do you think we put in her suit?”

I glanced towards Melanie in surprise, momentarily startled out of my tantrum. She looked down, a dumbfounded expression on her face at the discovery that she was wearing billions of dollars-worth of the most unique element on the planet.

I swallowed hard, my fury warring with sudden intense gratitude to Pepper for caring so much about her, about what she meant to _me_ , to put that much effort into keeping her safe.

The others seemed to hold their breath as Pepper and I stared daggers at each other for a long moment.

Finally, I slowly stepped back, turning away from her. I put a hand over my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose; focussed on my breathing, battling to get the rage under control.

Pepper watched me warily.

“Sorry,” I muttered, not meeting her eyes. My anger refused to subside, still burning like a furnace within me, but with a huge effort, I managed to pull the rational part of my brain back to the fore. Bruce was right, slapping her had been out of line.

“Apology accepted,” she said coldly. Then she slumped. “I’m sorry too. You’re right, this is all my fault. I should have been more careful. I should have overseen the shipment myself. I should have told you about the vibranium. I should have killed Goravitch back in the Red Room…”

I winced, closing my eyes against a throbbing headache as a sudden surge of hatred joined forces with the aggression still trying to fight its way out of my body.

“No, it’s on me,” I grated painfully. “I suspected they would try to get an agent into your organisation. I was making plans to deal with that… but I should have realised there would already be someone in place. I was careless. I should have made it a higher priority… I should have done something sooner…”

“Nat,” Rhodes interjected tentatively. “We can stand around shifting blame and talking about what we should have done all day, but it isn’t going to change matters. We have a situation. We need to deal with it.”

I took a deep breath, blew it out, then started pacing the length of the room, trying to distance myself from the tempest within, enough so that I could think. Rhodes was right, hindsight was pointless. We had to try and get on top of this situation. More to the point, I had to get the others out of the way and occupied on something constructive so I could deal with my inner turmoil. The storm that was still battering me from the inside was starting to frighten me a little. Controlling my emotions was normally second nature, but I was feeling less in control with every moment that passed.

The others relaxed a fraction, relieved that I _seemed_ to have recovered my focus. I started rapping out commands as I quickly followed each possible avenue of investigation in my head, my fists clenched tightly with the effort of reining back the rage.

“Maria, get that facial recognition software running again,” I ordered. “If Goravitch has started sending Skuler out on errands, maybe he’ll get sloppy. If anyone we have a visual for shows their nose anywhere with a camera, I want to know about it. Contact Fury, if you can, make sure he’s updated. We need whatever help he can offer.”

“On it,” Maria agreed.

“Sam, Rhodes, use that feed I have with the Ministry of Defence and get monitoring their radar. Get in touch with the UN and get access to as many other radar feeds as possible, and get our tech team reconfiguring our satellites to cover any blind spots. If Skuler turns up, or a blip shows that might be the submarine or the jet, I want to be able to see what’s happening, and I want a ground team ready to move out at a moment’s notice. And Rhodey, get on to the Air Force and find out how the hell they managed to lose a quinjet.”

“Okay,” Rhodes agreed, subdued, and Sam nodded.

I knuckled my forehead as I paced. A splitting headache was making it even harder to think straight.

“Bruce, Mel, you’ve been wading through all that stuff on his serum, you have a handle on the way his mind works. Get back in the lab, see if you can figure out what he might do with that vibranium. We need to be prepared for the results.”

Bruce and Melanie nodded unhappily. I looked at Shuri. I had no right to order her to do anything, but I was confident she would cooperate.

She nodded. “I can help with that. And I’ll ask my brother to give you access to our satellites, that should help boost your search capabilities. No-one knows vibranium like I do. I can map out an algorithm to sweep for traces across the globe – although that won’t work if the vibranium is in a submerged submarine,” she added ruefully.

I nodded curtly. “Do what you can. Thanks.”

That took care of that side of things. I sighed and turned to Pepper, clamping down hard on another flare of aggression that sent a needle of pain shooting down the back of my neck. “You need to hunt down the mole in your organisation. Someone knew about Cho’s research, and about that shipment; someone arranged for Skuler and his gorillas to get aboard that plane and hijack it. If we can figure out who it is, we may be able to follow the trail back to Hydra.”

“Okay,” she agreed, subdued. “I’ll get right on it.”

“Take Wanda with you, and find her a job somewhere she can meet lots of people.”

Pepper looked even more unhappy about that, but, after one look at me, didn’t argue, which was wise. I was in no mood to debate the morals of privacy and consent right now. Normally I would never dream of suggesting we send Wanda searching through the unguarded thoughts of Stark employees, but these were exceptional circumstances.

Wanda stared at me, wide eyed, as I told her, “You know what to do.” I regretted the need to push her into the field without half the training I had promised her, but in the circumstances, I didn’t have much choice. She swallowed hard, but nodded.

I waved them all away. “Get going. I need to think.” I was desperate for them to leave, feeling my control over my myself gradually eroding.

They dispersed to their assignments, with a few uneasy glances at me on their way out. I moved to the window, staring unseeing outside, pretending to be lost in thought. I held myself rigid, every muscle clenched against the rage that was rising inexorably, battering me from within. My stomach twisted with fear as I realised I was slowly losing my battle to contain it. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. This was no mere flash of temper that I could purge from my system with a good workout or a spin in my Corvette. I had never experienced such all-consuming rage…

Or had I?

The fear swelled into panic. I felt an echo of this feeling within the darkest corners of my memory; felt something stir where it had been buried in the depths of my soul. I could feel my conscious mind slipping away, rational thought being eaten alive by the white-hot intensity of my fury… a seething mass of rage and hatred that wanted nothing but to rip and tear and kill…

Melanie hesitated before leaving the room.

“Not now, Mel,” I said harshly, my back to her. I frantically willed her to leave, before I could do irreparable harm, before she could witness the snap I could feel coming…

I sensed her recoil, hurt, and felt a stab of remorse as she swiftly left the room, but it was better than the alternative. My head throbbed, as though red-hot needles were being forced through my eyeballs and out the base of my skull. The pressure of all that rage and hatred and bloodlust was building steadily like steam within a sealed vessel, becoming unbearable. My limbs began to shake. I couldn’t hold it in. I had to let it out, or it would tear me apart from the inside.

Almost blind with pain, I staggered into the training room, slammed and locked the door. Feeling my control disintegrating, I cast a last frantic look around the room, ensuring I was alone and unobserved, that the only damage I could inflict was on the training equipment.

Then, with a strangled sob, I let it all go.

*****

I came to, lying in a limp sprawl on the floor.

Something was digging into my side. Groggily pushing myself up to all fours, I felt around. The object I had been lying on turned out to be a section of handlebar that _had_ been part of the exercise bike.

Slowly sitting back on my heels, I blinked grit from my eyes and looked around.

The room looked as though it had been hit by a rampaging rhino. My mouth fell open as I took in the smashed equipment, the shredded mats, the punchbag that had been torn in half and was leaking its innards all over the floor, mixing with the glass from the mirrors and the fist-sized hole in one of the windows.

I looked numbly down. Blood ran in little rivulets over my skin from dozens of tiny cuts on my arms and hands. They stung.

Gulping, I turned my wrist slightly to look at my watch, which by some miracle was still intact. The numbers that glowed faintly in the twilight gloom made me feel sick.

I tried to remember the last half an hour, and couldn’t. A few vague images fluttered across the corners of my mind; a familiar figure that moved in a completely unfamiliar way, her face a mask of alien savagery; metal and fibreglass shattering and shredding as though made from toothpicks…

Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I tried to catch hold of the strange images, haul them into the light to examine more closely, but they resisted my every attempt to grasp them. Other than those elusive fragments, there was nothing. A black hole, as though I had simply been absent from my body for the last thirty minutes, with no memory of where I had been or what I had done.

Just as I had no memory of the horrific things I had done as a teenager, provoked into the same mindless state by torture, that Goravitch had meticulously recorded in my file.

“Oh shit,” I muttered helplessly.

The vacuum left by the absence of rage was swiftly filled, this time by pure panic. Melanie had warned me that there would be consequences to reading that file, to forcing my mind to confront the traumatic past it had supressed. I should have listened to her; I should have let her burn those pages to cinders.

I mouthed a few choice obscenities as the horrifying realisation of what I had done descended. Reading that file had broken the dam, lifted the barriers my unconscious mind had set. The insane creature the serum had created was no longer caged, and Madame B’s prediction had finally come true; a new trigger had manifested. I no longer needed to experience physical torture to release the demon, it seemed my rage alone had been enough. And Goravitch’s doubt that I would be able to control it had also come to pass; I had barely been able to rein it in long enough to get everyone safely out of reach. At least I could console myself that I _had_ been able to achieve so much, that no-one had gotten hurt, although my revulsion at what could have happened made me gag. I saw, as clearly as if they were right in front of me, the photographs Goravitch had included in his notes. I saw, just as vividly, the faces of people I loved interposed on those dismembered bodies…

I retched, doubling over, and unceremoniously added the contents of my stomach to the mess.

Shaking uncontrollably, I sat back on my heels again and looked around once more in desperation.

This wasn’t a superpower, this was a curse! This wasn’t a being that could be tamed, taught to reason, channelled into fighting for good. This was a demon incarnate, an evil thing that yearned to rend flesh and taste blood. Instinctively, I knew the wholesale destruction I had unleashed on the training equipment had only occurred because there were no humans to vent my wrath upon. Had a single living thing been unfortunate enough to be trapped in here with me, I would have awoken to a different kind of carnage entirely. The furnishings would probably have survived entirely intact, albeit splattered with blood and body parts… I retched again, my panic mounting.

What was I going to do? What if next time I couldn’t hold it in long enough to get away from people? How many bodies would I wake up to find in pieces all around me? I hugged myself, shivering with chills and smothering a moan of terror.

 _Melanie,_ a small rational part of my mind said logically. _You need Melanie. And Bruce, and Shuri. They will be able to help…_

 _No!_ another voice exclaimed emphatically _. They can’t help! And you can’t tell them! You can’t tell anyone! If they see this, see Goravitch’s notes, see the photographs… when they understand what you are capable of, the hideous creature that’s inside you… when they realise what could have happened today… they will be horrified, revolted! There is something dark and evil inside you… inside, you’re as evil as Goravitch! Worse! And once they realise that, how will they ever be able to trust you again? They would never let someone so evil stay in command of the Avengers. They’ll lock you away for their own protection, shut you up in some padded cell. And Melanie_ …

My heart clenched in agony. How could she possibly love such a creature?

 _She couldn’t,_ the voice whispered. _You’ve barely managed to repair the damage you’ve already done to your relationship. This is too much. If she finds out, you’ll lose her, forever._

No. I shook my head emphatically, lurching unsteadily to my feet. I had already lost too much. I couldn’t lose Melanie. I couldn’t bear it. I had to figure out a way to keep this from her, from all of them.

Still shaking, I felt my way to the door. I pulled ineffectually at the handle for a full minute before I remembered it was locked. With an effort, I unlocked it and pulled the door open.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, finding myself face to face with Bucky Barnes. He was a lot taller than me, too tall for me to block his view of the mess on the other side of the door. He looked grimly over my shoulder, his eyes wandering over the carnage. I sagged against the door jam, feeling wretched. I wanted to die, I wanted the ground to open and swallow me up.

“I take it this wasn’t your usual work-out routine,” Bucky said sardonically.

I choked on a sob. “Please,” I whispered, red-faced with shame that I was reduced to begging. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

To my surprise, he patted my shoulder gently. Gulping, I looked up into his face. His eyes were knowing, but kind. He indicated with his thumb over his shoulder. “The others will be busy for quite a while I reckon,” he said. He smiled crookedly. “We can probably get this cleared up before any of them get back. We’ll raid for replacements for all this stuff. You must have more than one gym in this building.”

I nodded dumbly.

He clapped me on the shoulder. “No problem then. Go clean off that blood, and we’ll get to work. Don’t fret, me and Steve cleaned up way bigger messes than this, back in the day. I think you’ll have to own up to the window though. Your girlfriend is probably going to notice those cuts.”

I grimaced, acknowledging he had a point. But admitting to putting my fist through a window in a fit of temper was better than confessing to the all-out massacre of everything in the room in a homicidal rage.

“Thanks, Bucky,” I said hesitantly.

He smiled that crooked smile again. “Don’t worry about it. I know what it feels like to lose yourself for a while. Steve would come back to haunt me if I didn’t look after his _other_ best friend. Besides,” he added. “Us lab rats need to stick together.”


	5. 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha struggles with her inner demons.

“Nat, will you _please_ come to bed?” Melanie said wearily. “You’re making me seasick. Not to mention the holes you’re wearing in the carpet.”

I slowed my relentless pacing. It was on the tip of my tongue to snap that I didn’t give a rat’s arse about the carpet, but I stopped myself. Things were tense enough, without Mel and I starting a row. Not to mention that I was terrified of what might happen if I got angry with her.

So far, although I had confessed to destroying the window in anger, none of the others had realised that anything else had been amiss. They were all too preoccupied by our current crisis to go near the training room, and Bucky and I had managed to replace all the damaged equipment before they knew anything about it. I had even managed to sneak people in to replace the mirrors. The rest of the team, including Melanie, were still blissfully ignorant of the whole incident.

Once we had hidden all the evidence, I had barricaded myself in my office. Though it made me physically ill, I forced myself to go through my file again, and reluctantly allowed Bucky to do so as well, searching desperately for any clue as to how I could wrestle this catastrophic new development under control. If I could just figure out how I returned to my natural state, perhaps I could figure out a way to prevent it from manifesting in the first place. I may as well have saved myself the upset stomach. Goravitch had spent months trying to solve that very conundrum. He had a great deal to say about ‘the phenomenon’, which he seemed to have found endlessly fascinating, but I could make little sense of it, and though there were pages of conjecture, he clearly had no more idea how I regained my sanity than I did.

One thing he did note was that every episode seemed to last the same length of time – exactly thirty minutes – as though that was as long as my body could tolerate the strain. While Bucky tried to suggest this was a positive sign – at least I knew I _would_ return to normal – I did not find it at all comforting. The number of people that could be rendered limb from limb in half an hour didn’t bear thinking about; I could feasibly massacre everyone in the building in that time! The thought made me hyperventilate. My palms became clammy, I could feel my heart beating all over my body, and I couldn’t seem to breathe for the crushing weight that seemed to be squeezing my chest. I was growing dizzy when Bucky shoved my head between my knees and told me I was having a panic attack. Despite his insistence that these symptoms were normal and would pass, his assertion simply freaked me out all the more. I was the Black Widow, assassin turned Avenger! I didn’t have panic attacks! I was convinced this was a sign I was losing control again, and any moment I was going to turn homicidal once more.

It took Bucky a long time to calm me down, by which time it was past midnight. Just after one, Melanie turned up to insist I got some sleep. Unwilling, but afraid to argue, I had allowed her to lead me back to our room. She tutted sympathetically over my cut hands, which she healed in a heartbeat; kissed me lovingly and tried to stroke the tension from my body. I had turned my back on her, telling her truthfully that I had a headache, although that wasn’t the reason I pulled away. I felt too repulsive to deserve her touch, and I feared that any loss of control whatsoever, even through pleasure, might free the raging demon again. As soon as she had fallen asleep, I had slid noiselessly out of bed and returned to my office, where I spent the rest of the night pacing, terrified to close my eyes.

Days passed, and we had no luck locating Hydra or the vibranium. Neither Skuler nor any other known member of the (former) KGB showed their face anywhere they could be tagged by the face trace, nothing was showing up on radar or satellite tracking, and Shuri reported dolefully that her sweep for traces of vibranium was coming up blank, presumably because it was already in the bowels of Goravitch’s submarine. Pepper and Wanda were still absent, hunting down the mole in the Stark Corporation. I was exhausted from almost no sleep, endless fretting, and planning frantic countermeasures to keep my people safe.

Bucky and I secretly prepared an emergency space in one of the basements where I could be restrained if necessary. I didn’t ask Bucky where he had found the chains he produced, merely asking him to make sure they were anchored as securely to the concrete wall as he could manage, while I busied myself clearing everything out of the small cell-like storage room and fitting several strong locks on the steel door, in case the chains weren’t enough. So far, I had not needed to resort to our desperate measures, although I sometimes retreated down there anyway when the anxiety became too much. The rest of the time, I hid in my office, keeping myself as isolated from the others as possible. Bucky appointed himself my liaison, roaming the facility and returning at regular intervals to keep me updated. I was grateful for his support, although I knew the others were exceedingly perplexed over my sudden inexplicable refusal to speak to anyone but him. He brought me food and drink regularly too, although I was mostly too queasy to eat, and often the previous plate was still sat there, untouched, when he returned with another.

Melanie was the only other person I had any contact with. She insisted on coaxing me out of my office each night to come to bed, but I still refused to allow her to touch me, huddling stiffly on the edge of the mattress as far away from her as I could get, until she miserably gave up and went to sleep, and I sneaked back out of the room again.

This state of affairs might have continued indefinitely had Melanie not decided, in her indomitable fashion, that enough was enough. Tonight, frustrated beyond words by my behaviour, she had put her foot down and insisted I was taking the night off, and, much to my dismay, the others had backed her up, almost dragging me forcibly out of my nest. She had made us dinner in our quarters and stared daggers at me until I had relented and sat down to eat with her, though I struggled to force it down, even her excellent cooking tasting like ash. She ran me a bath, and for once didn’t join me in it, although she did try to cajole me into bed afterwards. I shrank away from her, shaking my head. Though I _had_ finally come to the conclusion that if sex was going to trigger an episode, considering how often we indulged in that activity it would almost certainly have done so before now, I still felt too repulsive, and too guilt-ridden over what Cho might be going through at this very moment, to be able to relax in her arms. Hurt and confused by my rejection, she had ceased her attempts to comfort me but refused to let me leave the room, insisting that even if I didn’t want her company, I was still taking a break from work. She settled herself sulkily in bed with a book, although I noted she rarely turned a page.

Miserable that I was making her unhappy, but unable to find any solution to my predicament, I had been pacing up and down for over an hour when Melanie made her plea.

The dejected note in her voice made me pause, biting back all the bitter comments churned up by my foul mood. I felt a pang of remorse. Melanie didn’t deserve the way I had been cold-shouldering her. Maybe she thought I had changed my mind, that I didn’t love her anymore. Maybe she thought I wished I had stayed in the past with Tanya… The thought stopped me dead in my tracks, stricken.

If Melanie was confused by my abrupt halt, and the anguished, half-panicked look I suddenly bestowed on her, she didn’t show it. She smiled at me, her eyes full of love, and I nearly wept that she could be so forgiving. She put her book aside and held up the bedcovers hopefully.

I hesitated, then slid into bed beside her. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to relax for her sake; she snuggled against my side, leaning her head on her hand, her other hand lightly tracing the contours of my face with her fingertips.

“That’s better,” she murmured, thrilled that she was finally allowed to touch me. She stroked my hair back from my forehead. “You need to rest, Nat. You can’t keep going and going like this, you’re going to make yourself ill.”

I heard the worry she didn’t bother to conceal and winced. I had no trouble hearing the unspoken invitation to unburden myself, though she made no demands that I do so. I still couldn’t bear to confess the main cause of my distress, but she was my partner, my love, my better half. I owed it to her to at least confide _some_ of what was bothering me.

I sighed. “I know,” I admitted finally. “But I can’t sleep. I can’t rest. I’m worried about Cho. I keep remembering all the things he did to me, all the things he could be doing to her…” All of which was the truth, albeit only a small part of what was going on in my head.

Her arms tightened around me. “He won’t do that to Cho,” she whispered, trying to comfort me.

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Because he needs her mind intact,” she said confidently. “She has knowledge he wants, right? He can’t break her, because if she’s too traumatised, she won’t be able to give him what he wants. Geniuses don’t perform well under extreme duress. Pain and torment tend to put a damper on creative thought processes. He’s probably _threatening_ her with all sorts of horrible stuff, but as long he has a use for her, and as long as she at least _appears_ to be cooperating, I don’t think he’ll risk any major damage to her. I’m sure she’s terrified and miserable, but I doubt she’s suffering the way you fear.”

She and Bruce and Shuri had clearly talked about this at length. I thought about what she had said, realised it made sense. Goravitch had kidnapped Cho to force her to help him with his experiments with vibranium, not to experiment _on_ her. I let out a long breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

I hadn’t realised how much the thought of Cho’s potential suffering had been weighing on me until some of that weight lifted. I felt a portion of my tension drain away, and with it a good part of my reluctance to succumb to Melanie’s charms. Even when I had decided it was safe, I hadn’t been able to bear the thought of indulging in pleasures of the flesh while Cho was being tortured.

Reassured by her logic that that probably wasn’t the case, I relaxed a fraction as she hesitantly began to kiss me. Her lips firmed, becoming more confident as she realised I wasn’t pulling away this time. The last of my reluctance abruptly fled. Suddenly starved for the release I had denied myself since my demonic tantrum, I returned her kiss with passion, raking my hands up her back, beneath the t-shirt she wore to sleep in. Ecstatic that I was responding, she hugged me as tightly to her as she could manage while covering my face in kisses. Her transparent happiness made me smile for the first time in days. I relaxed a little more, wincing as I noticed aches I had been too preoccupied to bother about before. My neck and back were all knotted up from the constant anxiety. Melanie’s hand, stroking the back of my neck, accidently touched one of those knots, making me flinch. Her kiss faltered and she pulled away, frowning. I hissed in pain as she gently explored the tense lump under her fingers.

“No wonder you can’t sleep,” she scolded. She sat up. “Take your top off and lie on your front,” she ordered, in a tone that brooked no refusal. She pushed the pillows out of the way so that I could lie flat. Reluctantly, not at all willing to stop now that we had started, I obeyed. She produced a small bottle of oil from a bedside drawer, straddled my lower back and began firmly kneading my tense muscles.

“Ow,” I complained.

She slapped my shoulder. “Don’t be a baby.”

I subsided grumpily, wincing but keeping my mouth shut as she started on new knot. After a while, once the most painful spots had been dealt with, it started to feel pretty good. Melanie’s fingers were strong and deft as she worked her way up my back and across my shoulders and neck, rooting out every tense muscle and gradually coaxing them to relax. I sighed and slowly felt the anxiety in my gut, like a coiled spring, finally start to unwind. My fears suddenly seemed very silly. How could I ever have thought her touch would release my inner demon? If anything, it did the opposite, acting like an antidote to the poison in my soul.

“You’re pretty good at that,” I mumbled drowsily.

She chuckled softly. Her hands left my shoulders and started on my arms, kneading and stroking until they tingled. I relaxed completely, burrowing comfortably into the mattress. She shifted position and began on my legs, starting with my feet, causing me to giggle a little as she hit a ticklish spot, and moving up gradually until she reached my buttocks. I felt a little tension return to certain parts of my body as she squeezed them and kissed my back. I tried to turn over to face her, but she was having none of it, pushing me back down on my stomach.

“Uh uh,” she tutted teasingly as I made a startled noise. “You are staying right there. I am in charge right now, and I say you are going to relax.”

Surprised but undeniably aroused by her sudden masterfulness, I meekly obeyed. She returned to massaging my back, her hands becoming sensual, stroking and brushing her fingers lightly as a feather over my skin. I shivered a little, her ministrations making me tingle all over, but obediently remained still. Her warm lips touched my skin, kissing her way slowly from the base of my neck down my spine. Her fingers stroked down the inside of my thigh. I gave an involuntary soft moan and without thinking again tried to turn over, aching to take her in my arms. Once again, she refused to allow me to move. I wriggled, frustrated, and she slapped my buttocks.

“Behave,” she scolded. I could sense her seductive smile. She pressed her body against my side, kissing my shoulder. I could feel her breast, her nipple hard and hot against my back. When had she taken her clothes off? I didn’t know, and at that moment, didn’t care. Her hand continued stroking my inner thigh, then parted my legs and slipped between them, still stroking. I quivered and gripped the pillow above my head. My nipples grazed against the mattress. Heat flooded me from my breasts to my groin. I tried, yet again, to turn over, and for the third time she pushed me back down.

“Mel,” I moaned, tantalised beyond restraint by her strictures. “Let me up!”

She shook her head, still kissing my neck, shoulder and back. Her stroking fingers parted my folds and slipped inside me. The different position felt good, touching new places inside.

“Do you trust me?” Melanie murmured in my ear, her lips on my neck, her fingers flexing in a slow, sensual movement that seemed to completely short-circuit my brain. It took me a several seconds to process her question, and another interval before I could manage a reply.

“Of course,” I got out eventually.

I felt her lips curve in a smile.

For a minute nothing happened. Melanie continued with her tantalisingly slow internal massage, and I continued to lie still at her insistence, though it took all my willpower not to flex against her hand, desperate for more. Then a faint tingling began at my neck. Slowly, it spread over my shoulders, then down my spine; branched off and curved around both sides to my breasts. I gasped as the sensation reached both nipples simultaneously, becoming almost too intense. Almost beside myself as every erogenous zone seemed to catch fire, I was only vaguely aware that Melanie’s powers were responsible. Later, I would realise that she had used her ability to move matter to create a deep vibration within my very skin. But right then, I was oblivious to everything except that every part of my body was slowly succumbing to a sensation so insanely pleasurable I was losing my mind. The vibration crept lower, and I had to bite my lips to muffle a scream of ecstasy as it pooled between my legs, honing in with deadly accuracy on the most sensitive organ in my body. As if that weren’t enough, Melanie’s fingers were still inside me, still pulsing slowly against my inner sweet spot. The vibration she was creating began to ebb and flow like waves washing up on the shore. Melanie teased me unmercifully, bringing me close to a climax over and over again but not allowing me to peak, until I was almost thrashing with overpowering need.

“Mel,” I gasped. “Please!”

I felt her smile at my fervent plea, the first such that had ever left my mouth. I had never dreamed I could need anything as much as I needed her right now.

As though realising that I had reached my limit, she finally stopped teasing. The energy pulsing through my body swelled to a vibration more intense than any I had ever felt, everywhere at once, and at the same time her fingers pressed firmly with unerring accuracy. I let out a strangled shriek that I muffled in the mattress as ecstasy thundered through my body, flooding through me until it seemed it filled every cell. Every part of me was humming with pure, exquisite pleasure.

Slowly, the vibration lessened and died, leaving me floating in the dreamy effect of its presence, an after-glow so satisfying it was almost a climax in itself.

It took some time for me to come down from my high, but eventually I summoned the energy to roll onto my back. She snuggled in beside me and pulled me back into her arms, so that I lay across her chest. I listened to her heart beat dreamily, breathed in the smell of her hair, her warm skin.

I started, realising I had almost fallen asleep. Mortified that I had almost been unforgivably rude, I slid my hand down her stomach, fully intending to return the favour.

Her hand caught mine, stopping me in my tracks. She pulled it back up, cradled it to her chest, and kissed me gently. “Later,” she murmured. “Sleep now.”

I tried to protest, but she had known what she was doing. The combination of exhaustion, her proficient massage and the unbelievable release I had just experienced had exactly the effect she had intended.

Unable to keep my eyes open, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

Daylight woke me, finding a gap in the curtains and falling on my face.

I rolled over sleepily, then started as I encountered empty space in the bed next to me. I opened my eyes and sat up. I was alone. Melanie had obviously got up, probably hours earlier if the angle of the sun was anything to go by, leaving me to sleep. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at the clock, then stared at it in dismay. Clearly, once I had finally slept, my body had decided to make up for lost time. I had slept the clock around and more.

Swearing under my breath, I took a quick shower to wake myself up, then dressed while cleaning my teeth, doing up my buttons awkwardly one-handed. I towelled my hair impatiently and twisted it into a knot at the back of my neck, still damp. I left our room and headed to the lab, dodging briefly into the kitchen on my way and snatching up a cereal bar that I wolfed down in three bites.

Melanie was indeed in the lab with Bruce and Shuri, poring over a microscope. The three of them had been running tests all week to try to recreate Dr Cho’s work on combining human tissue with vibranium that she had conceived while under the control of Ultron.

“That’s amazing,” she was saying as I walked in. “The vibranium atoms are actually binding themselves into the fabric of the cells in a continuous reaction…”

“The two are amazingly compatible,” Shuri agreed.

“It certainly explains how Cho was successfully able to build a body,” Bruce remarked. “Do you think the flower you told me about, that gives the Black Panther his powers, works the same way?”

“I don’t think so,” Shuri said absently. “The heart-shaped herb is a species that was mutated by the radiation of the original vibranium meteorite. The successor to the title of Black Panther ingests the herb, incorporating it into their body, but the amount of actual vibranium within T’Challa’s cells would be miniscule compared to this, and the effects are reversable. This… binding vibranium atoms to the molecules within cells, directly through the bloodstream… I can’t even begin to imagine what this would do to a human…”

“Imagine, Shuri,” I said drily, making all three of them jump. “Because some unlucky human guinea pigs are no doubt being pumped full of the stuff right now. Is there any chance they could survive the process? And is there any way we can test to find out what kind of enhanced abilities such a person might come out with?”

Bruce grimaced at me. “It’s a little difficult,” he pointed out testily. “We can’t exactly do what he does and just pump it into someone and see what happens!”

“Not an option,” I agreed. “But if that _is_ what he is doing, do you think it would be possible to survive it?”

He threw up his hands. “I have no idea. Maybe?”

“I think it would depend how much he uses, and how he gets it into them,” Melanie mused thoughtfully. “If he just pumps pure liquid vibranium into their veins, I’m sure it will kill them. In large doses, it’s extremely toxic. But if he were to try something more subtle…”

Bruce snorted. “Subtle. Yeah right. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

I disregarded his comment, focussing on the unspoken supposition behind Melanie’s words. “So you think there _is_ a way someone could survive an influx of vibranium?” I asked her.

She winced, exchanging glances with the other two. “It’s just a theory, without being able to test it we can’t really speculate….”

I fixed her with a warning look. “Speculate anyway.”

She sighed. “A direct influx of vibranium into the bloodstream would overwhelm the body, killing the victim very quickly. But a bit at a time, in tiny doses? It might not. And the way the vibranium binds itself into the cells, it could distribute itself through the body very quickly… here, let me show you.” She grabbed a clean petri dish off a stack. I opened my mouth to protest as she unwrapped some kind of needle and stabbed her finger with it. She shushed me impatiently and squeezed a little blood onto the dish, spreading it evenly. Shoving her bleeding finger in her mouth, she placed the dish under her microscope then switched on the monitor next to it, so that we could all see the image. I eyed the screen full of roughly circular red blood cells, wondering where she was going with this.

“Watch what happens when we add a tiny drop of liquid vibranium,” she said, nodding to Shuri, who produced a syringe. The screen was momentarily obscured as she squeezed a minute silver droplet onto the smear of Melanie’s blood. I watched the screen. Slowly, I realised what they meant. The droplet of vibranium was shrinking, the nearest blood cells absorbing it, taking on a silver cast, but that wasn’t all. My eyes widened as, like a Mexican wave, the cells seemed to pass the vibranium between them, dispersing it across the sample. Within a couple of minutes, every cell on the screen had taken on a distinct silvery sheen.

“You see?” Melanie said anxiously. “If you added a small amount of vibranium to a bag of blood and then gave someone a transfusion, in theory that vibranium would disperse itself through their entire bloodstream, and from there, into every cell in your body. If you did it gradually, didn’t try to give them too much at once… the vibranium atoms are so compatible with human tissue… I think that their body might adapt to it, mutating them without killing them.”

“My god,” I breathed, horror-struck. I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “But like you said, Goravitch doesn’t _do_ subtle. Is it likely he would think to try something like that?”

“Probably not,” she said, then she added with a pained expression, “but I’m pretty sure Cho’s theory would run along those lines.”

I grimaced. “Then we had better hope she doesn’t tell him.” We all knew there was no hope of that. Goravitch held a complete copy of all her research, stolen from her lab in Seoul. Even if we were lucky enough that she hadn’t written those particular musings down, which I frankly doubted considering the scientific penchant for recording every minute squib of thought, I was all too aware of how… persuasive… Goravitch could be. There was almost no chance that he would not cotton on to this; most likely, he already had. We had to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

“So assuming that someone managed to survive the process… what would the vibranium do to them?”

Melanie shrugged a little helplessly. “At the moment, we have no idea.”

“Maybe they’d be like a supercharged Black Panther,” Bruce commented gloomily. He frowned. “Perhaps if we compared this blood sample to T’Challa’s, we might get some indication of how similar or different they are? It might give us a starting point at least…”

Shuri brightened. “Good idea. I’m sure he won’t mind. I’ll go ask him. If he agrees, I can get one of my assistants in Wakanda to take a few samples and have them shipped straight over.” She ran off in the direction of the control room.

Reminded of the reason I had originally come to the lab, I gave Bruce an oblique look, glancing significantly towards Melanie.

He took my meaning at once. “I’ll just go… er, grab a snack… you know, while we have a minute…” he said hurriedly, lumbering out of the room after Shuri.

As soon as the door closed, I pulled Melanie into my arms and kissed her fiercely. “You are in so much trouble,” I told her when we broke apart.

“You needed to rest,” she argued, unrepentant. “You hadn’t slept properly for days. I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” Her lips twitched. “I told the others I used my powers to force you to sleep.”

I choked. “Well that’s one way of putting it!”

She grinned slyly. “It was for a good cause.”

“You are still in trouble.”

“Why?” Her smile faded uncertainly. “I thought you enjoyed -?”

“I did,” I interrupted. “Very much. But seen as you did such a thorough job, I was deprived of my chance to say thank you. And then I woke up, and I was all alone.” I kissed her again, lingeringly, before adding, “I was looking forward to thanking you. Profusely.”

She smiled, delighted that I seemed to have recovered from the black mood of the last week or so. “Well I could be persuaded to go back to bed,” she murmured. “Bruce and Shuri can run tests without me for a while…”

I ran my fingers through her soft hair, seriously tempted. Last night had done wonders for my mental state as well as my physical one. I felt restored, as though she had given my abused soul a good spring clean, putting all my fears back into perspective. Her love was the antidote I needed, an anchor to keep me from losing myself. I ached to return the sense of peace and security she had brought me, to make up for the way I had treated her. Surely the others _could_ run tests without her for a while…

But no… this was too important…

“Later,” I said, reluctantly parting from her.

She clung to me. “I’ll hold you to that,” she whispered.

“Tonight,” I promised, tilting my face for another kiss.

A slight cough behind us made us jump. I glanced over my shoulder. Shuri had returned, accompanied by Bucky, and they were both staring at us with amusement. Bruce peered awkwardly around the door behind them, clutching a sandwich.

“Duty calls,” I murmured in Melanie’s ear. I gave her a last quick kiss and left her to her science. I answered Bucky’s questioning look with a quick nod as I passed, indicating I was all right, and would speak to him later. In the meantime, it was time I made my presence felt again.

“What’s our status?” I requested as soon as I walked into the control room.

Maria stood up to join me before the main wall screen. “You’re back with us,” she observed, looking relieved. “Are you alright?”

I nodded, but refused to be side-tracked, despite feeling guilty for the worry I had clearly caused her. I could apologise later, once I figured out a good excuse for my behaviour.

She sighed but complied with my request. “Still running the facial recognition software. Every camera connected to Wi-Fi is eyes and ears for us. No sign of Goravitch himself, but his errand boy has popped up in a few different spots across the US in the last few hours.” She brought up several images and sets of video footage on the screen. The bald, thuggish visage of Vernon Skuler showed up prominently in each one.

I studied them quickly. “Is he breaking into office buildings?” I asked, perplexed.

Maria nodded. “Several. He and his gang of masked marauders have raided at least six sets of offices, in four different states. They were in and out too quickly for us to get anyone on the scene, which was why I didn’t wake you,” she added, seeing my frown. “Sam and Rhodes went to check them out. They should be reporting in soon.”

“Offices,” I muttered. I was baffled. Goravitch had vibranium, he was no doubt pumping unfortunate humans full of the stuff to see what it did to them, he had Cho and therefore his second-favourite pastime of terrorising someone to keep him occupied… so why was he sending his chief thug out to raid office buildings in the US? Unless another hand was directing his movements? Were we finally getting a hint of the mysterious Hydra leader? But what could the reclusive head of a secret organisation bent on world domination possibly want in those offices?

“Anything special about those buildings they raided?”

Maria shrugged, indicating she was as confused as I was. “Doesn’t seem to be. Mostly offices for insurances companies, property management and real estate firms.”

I frowned at the screen, but the images were no help, just brief glimpses of Skuler and his men breaking and entering. I couldn’t begin to guess what they could possibly want in musty offices full of property and insurance records. They must be searching for something, but what?

“Run a search on the names of the companies they broke into, see if there are any common denominators,” I said thoughtfully.

“Sam and Rhodes might have some ideas when they report in,” Maria suggested.

I nodded. I hoped so. Whatever they were up to, it was important enough to send one of their higher-ranked operatives and their precious cloaked jet.

“Have Pepper or Wanda reported in yet?” I asked, shelving the mystery for the moment.

“Just,” Maria confirmed. “I was about to come and wake you, they’re on their way in. Wanda said to tell you she’s got something, and…” She hesitated.

“And?” I prompted suspiciously.

She sighed. “And you’re not going to like it.”

I groaned. Not another setback.

“When will they be here?” I asked, feeling anxiety start to bubble again in my stomach.

“They’ll be here in an hour.”

I headed for the door. “I’ll be back in an hour then.” Ignoring her startled look, I hurried back to the lab to root out Melanie. If I was going to have to deal with more bad news, I needed another dose of my antidote first.


	6. 6.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team hunt down a spy.

“All right, what have you got that I’m not going to like?” I demanded.

Wanda grimaced, falling into a chair. She looked almost unrecognisable in a crisp trouser suit and heels, her hair ash blonde and curly. I gave her a silent look of approval. It seemed I had gauged her natural talent for subterfuge accurately. It would take a better eye than mine to recognise the Scarlet Witch in this brisk, professional-looking woman.

“I found the leak,” she said. She rolled her eyes. “One of Pepper’s software engineers has been a total idiot.”

“He’s been suspended, pending disciplinary action,” Pepper said furiously. “I’ve got him on lockdown, under 24-hour surveillance. Believe me, by the time I’m though with him, he’ll never make such a stupid mistake again.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What did he do?”

Wanda snorted. “He’s completely infatuated with a certain exotic dancer at a very exclusive gentlemen’s club…”

I groaned. “You have _got_ to be kidding me. He fell for a spy posing as a stripper? That is the oldest trick in the book! I should know, I practically wrote the damn book!”

“Yeah well, this one could give you a run for your money,” Wanda said grimly. “She has Chad wrapped around her little finger. He thinks he’s in love, and would do anything to please her, including never taking off the little lover’s gift she gave him…”

I sighed heavily. “She bugged him. I thought you had security measures in place to prevent that sort of thing?” I shot crossly at Pepper.

She threw up her hands. “We do, but he was one of the team that developed them! No-one is allowed any jewellery or personal items in the labs for exactly that reason, but the idiot decided he was above the rules. He thought nothing of reprogramming the scanners so he didn’t have to take off his precious bracelet! Looks like it contained a wireless sensor, allowing her to remotely access any systems he came into contact with. And as he was in and out of pretty much every department, performing routine security scans of all the software…”

“Great,” I muttered in disgust. While we had been obsessing over Goravitch, the unknown Hydra leader had cleverly slipped another agent beneath our radar. It might have taken the spy a little while to identify a suitable target, but once she had got her hooks into Chad, it must have been almost too easy to discover Pepper’s secret trade in vibranium, and the details of the next shipment. For the thousandth time lately, I cursed myself allowing my personal grudge to blind me to the true danger.

Wanda hesitated. “There’s more.”

“I figured there would be,” I replied in resignation. “Hit me.”

“This morning he volunteered to go collect takeout coffees for his team, but his mind was practically yelling at me that he was going to meet his ‘darling Victoria’, so I followed him.”

“Did you get a good look at her?” I asked eagerly.

She shrugged. “Visually, no. Her back was to me the whole time. She’s got short spikey blonde hair, that’s all I know. But I did get a good look at her mind.” She paused, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“So?” I prompted a little impatiently when she didn’t continue. “What did you see?”

She shook her head slightly. “That’s what’s so… weird. She definitely works for Hydra, I got that straight away, she was there to pump Chad for information… but she was also genuinely pleased to see him. She actually likes him.”

I raised an eyebrow sceptically, but she nodded fervently, indicating she had been dubious as well, but there was no doubting what she had sensed in the woman’s thoughts.

“Really,” she said. “She thinks he’s sweet. She even had a little daydream while he was in the bathroom, wishing the two of them could just disappear together…which was when things got really interesting.”

“Why?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“Because then she started thinking about the reasons she couldn’t.” Wanda looked conflicted, as though she wasn’t sure how I was going to take her next words. “It looks like we were right, Hydra _have_ completely taken over the KGB, but it seems to be a fairly recent development. The Brethren are gone. And you were right, Goravitch isn’t in charge, although from the feel of her thoughts I would hazard a guess he’s probably second in command.”

“Did you see who _is_ in charge?” I leaned forward eagerly.

“Oh yes. Her thoughts were very clear on that. Problem is, she doesn’t know who it is. It’s someone new, a woman she knows only as Viper.”

“Viper?” I repeated, wide eyed. I exchanged glances with Maria, who shrugged, as bewildered as I was. “Who the hell is Viper?”

Wanda grimaced. “There was an image connected to the thought. A woman dressed all in green, wearing a gold face mask.” She hesitated. “She doesn’t know who she is, or where she came from, but there was a lot of fear attached to that image. A _lot_. Whoever this woman is, she’s frightening enough to scare the pants off a veteran agent. Make no mistake, Viktoria – that is actually her real name – might seem a bit naïve, I know it’s a major no-no, having feelings for her target and all – but, believe me, she is no amateur. I saw enough in her mind to know she has a string of successful missions under her belt. She used to be ruthless, perfectly content being an assassin… but something has changed her outlook, drastically. I think she was one of the Vanished, and when she returned, it was to find her whole world had changed.”

I nodded pensively. “So, the Decimation must have created enough of a power vacuum at the top for this Viper, whoever she is, to seize control of the organisation. Presumably with help from Goravitch, if he’s next in the chain of command.” I eyed Wanda speculatively. “So, this Viktoria… you get the sense that she’s not happy with the new regime? Do you think she might defect?”

Wanda grimaced. “That’s the part you’re not going to like. She can’t. She’s been fitted with a kill switch. If she tries to contact us, or acts suspiciously in any way, Viper can destroy her at the touch of a button.”

I clamped down hard on a sudden upwelling of anger, clenching my fists. I overrode my instinct to bolt for the basement and breathed slowly, calmly, forcing my mind to analyse this information logically. After a minute, to my heartfelt relief, the rage subsided. I relaxed a fraction. I spared a second to hope that Melanie wouldn’t think I had totally lost my mind, because I was going to need _another_ top up of my antidote, and soon. Then I forced myself to concentrate on the problem at hand. An agent willing to swap sides was too good an opportunity to waste; there had to be a way to get hold of Viktoria without her superiors knowing…

“If she was monitoring Chad through the bracelet, does she know she’s been rumbled?” Maria asked, her thoughts following mine.

Wanda looked smug. “I don’t think so. I was posing as a health and safety consultant so I could access all parts of the building, and I’m sure no-one suspected I was anything else. I clocked him thinking about the bracelet, and I figured it was bugged, so I arranged for one of the security staff to spot it and confiscate it, and without that she can’t access anything. _He_ thinks he fell afoul of bad luck and an eagle-eyed security guard, and that it got tossed straight in the incinerator. He was really upset about it when he saw her this morning, he kept saying how sorry he was, and he promised to make it up to her. I didn’t get any suspicious readings off her, just irritation that she was going to have to find another way to get a bug on him, and a fair bit of anxiety that she needed to do it quickly. I’m not sure when she’s next due to report, but I definitely got the impression Viper is a get-me-results-or-die kind of boss. Viktoria needs to be able to give her something, so I’m betting she’ll turn up with another little gift the next time she and Chad meet.”

I smiled approvingly. “Well done, Wanda. You’ve done brilliantly. Did you find out where and when she is supposed to meet him next?”

She grinned, pleased with my praise. “He’s making up for losing her bracelet by taking her for a romantic weekend getaway in DC. When we caught up with him, he’d just made a reservation at the Royal Hotel.”

I grinned as well, for more reasons than one, for the plan that was swiftly coming together in my head also gave me a perfect excuse to pry Melanie out of the lab again. I cracked my knuckles, eager for some action after all the anxiety and searching and waiting.

“Excellent. Maria, get the boys back here, asap. We have a spy to catch.”

****

“Got her,” Rhodey’s voice murmured down my earpiece. “Hot blonde, just walking up the front steps.”

I exchanged glances with Wanda and Melanie.

“Get ready,” I muttered softly.

Melanie backed against the wall, her suit shimmering as she blinked out of sight. Wanda stepped behind the curtains.

I ducked into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Hopefully when Viktoria walked in, she would think Chad was just freshening up while he waited for her.

“Good evening, Ma’am,” I heard Sam say in my ear. He was stationed in the lobby, posing as a receptionist. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Oh yes,” I heard a low, sweet voice return. “My boyfriend booked us a room for the weekend. I’m supposed to meet him here, could you tell me if he’s arrived?”

“What name is it, please?”

“Chad Taylor.”

I heard Sam tap some keys on the computer. “And your name, Ma’am?”

“Victoria Slater.”

A few more tapping sounds, then Sam said smoothly, “Ah yes, Mr Taylor checked in not long ago. Room 607. He left a key-card here for you. I just need your ID.” There was a pause as she handed it over. In my head I imagined him surreptitiously scanning it before handing it back to her with the room key. “Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you.”

There was a pause, then Sam said softly down the comm, “I think she bought it, boss, but be careful. There’s something about her. She’s dangerous.”

“Of course she’s dangerous,” I muttered back. “She has to be a Red Room graduate, and they don’t produce any other kind. Get back to Rhodes, and be ready.”

“Will do. Your girl has just got in the elevator.”

“Understood,” I said.

I waited.

Two minutes later, I heard the hotel room door open, then shut again.

“Chad?” that low, sweet voice called. “Chad honey, I’m here.”

She was good, I had to admit. Her attention to detail was first rate. Not only was there no trace of her Russian roots in those dulcet tones, she had even fine-tuned her accent down to the slight nasal twang common to the state she claimed to be from. No-one who didn’t already know would have any inkling that she wasn’t the American girl from Chicago she pretended to be.

I let her get halfway across the room, giving us time to cut off her retreat, before shutting off the shower and strolling casually out of the bathroom. I examined our target with interest as she stopped dead in the centre of the floor. She was young, perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two. Old enough to have been an active agent for at least a couple of years, but probably too young to have been at the Red Room on my last visit, which explained why we hadn’t been able to locate her in the files. She was petite, with a pointed face and short hair, dyed white-blonde and gelled into stylish, spikey disarray, adding to her pixie-like appearance. I almost expected her ears to be pointed. Her shapely figure was shown off to good advantage by skinny jeans and a wide-necked top that artfully slipped off one shoulder, and she made up for her diminutive stature with an impressive pair of heels. Her eyes widened in alarm as I stepped into view. There was no doubt she recognised me. Not unexpectedly, a gun was in her hand in an instant, aimed at my head.

“Hello, Viktoria,” I said calmly. I spread my hands slowly, showing her that I held no weapon. “I guess introductions are unnecessary. You know who I am.”

“ _The Betrayer_ ,” she hissed malevolently.

I had to restrain myself from laughing in her face at the audible capital letter she gave the word. “Seriously? _The Betrayer_? _That’s_ what they are calling me these days? That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think? Who did I betray?”

“Everyone,” she snarled. “You betrayed your country to her enemies, made a mockery of our heritage, condemned fellow agents to torture and death…” She sounded like she was repeating an often-heard piece of propaganda.

I rolled my eyes with a sigh. “Come on, Viktoria, tell me you don’t swallow all that garbage. Our _heritage_? How can an institution that tortures children be classified as ‘heritage’?” A slight frown creased her brow, and I pressed my advantage. “My fellow agents were all ruthless cut-throats who wouldn’t have crossed the street to spit on me if I was on fire, so excuse me for not shedding any tears over them; but I’d like to point out that no-one was tortured. The KGB might work that way, but Shield doesn’t. And all right, I admit I worked against Russian interests, but being forced to serve under threat of execution hardly inspires loyalty to one’s country of birth. I’m sure _you_ can appreciate that.”

Her eyes narrowed, troubled. Her eyes flitted warily around the room. Her finger twitched on the trigger of her gun. Her head cocked slightly to one side. Clearly she had caught my emphasis and wondered what I meant by it.

“What do you want?” she asked abruptly, jaw clenched. “If you were here to cross me off you’d have done it already, so what do you want?”

“I’m here to make you an offer.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “An offer.”

“A very simple, one-time-only bargain,” I said, smiling. I looked her squarely in the eye. “Your freedom, in return for information.”

“ _I’m_ no betrayer…” she began furiously. Then she paused, as though my wording had just registered. A flicker of confusion rippled across her face. “What do you mean, my freedom?”

“I mean exactly that.” I took a small step closer. “I know you’re unhappy, Viktoria. I know you want out. I know you’ve been considering contacting us for some time. And I know your boss, Viper, has contingencies in place to prevent that.”

Victoria rocked back a step, frightened. “How can you possibly…?” She broke off. “It doesn’t matter. If you know… then so does she.” A frantic look passed over her face. “I’m a dead woman.”

“Not necessarily.” I took another step forward. “As it happens, Viper doesn’t know, or she would have killed you already. My source of information is not one she has access to.” I paused, eying her speculatively. “How can she kill you anyway? She’s not here.”

“She doesn’t need to be here!” Viktoria hissed, a note of desperation coming into her voice now. “She can kill me whenever she wants, wherever I am.”

“How?”

“What does it matter?” she snapped furiously.

“Aha!” came a triumphant whoop from behind the curtain, making Viktoria jump and whirl around.

Wanda whipped the curtain aside, disregarding the gun now pointing at her own head. “Got it,” she told me, speaking quickly. “It’s inside her. A poison capsule connected to a tiny detonator and some kind of tracking mechanism. If she sets foot anywhere she shouldn’t be, Viper will know, and will send the detonation code, releasing the poison. She doesn’t know what the poison is, but its fast. She’d be dead in seconds.”

Victoria stared at her, open mouthed. “ _How_ …?” Then her eyes suddenly narrowed in recognition. “Wait… you’re the Maximoff girl… the one with the mind powers…”

Wanda inclined her head. “Apologies for reading your mind without consent, but it was necessary.”

Viktoria took a step back, glancing between us, looking slightly stunned. “You’re apologising to me?”

Wanda shrugged. “Of course. I don’t usually go around violating people’s privacy, believe it or not. I’m neither unscrupulous nor a bitch, regardless of what you’ve been told.”

“Melanie?” I said sharply, ignoring this.

There was a shimmer, and she reappeared, causing Viktoria to take another surprised leap backwards in shock. Melanie gave her a slight smile before turning to me.

“Wanda’s right,” she reported, her face grim. “There’s a foreign body implanted in her abdomen.”

“Can you remove it?”

She bit her lip. “Nat I’m not a surgeon! We need to get her to the med team, this wasn’t the plan…”

“Plans change,” I retorted tightly. “If there’s a tracking device inside her, she’ll be dead before we can get her to a surgeon. We’ll have to remove it here, now. So, can you do that, yes or no?”

She gulped. “Yes.”

I looked at Victoria, who stood frozen, still holding her gun, her eyes flicking between us as though unsure whether she was dreaming.

“One-time offer,” I repeated quietly. “Right now, no-one knows we are here. Viper thinks you’re here seducing Chad, doing your job. You have three choices. You can fight us, three against one, and we will kill you. You can refuse my offer, we all walk away, and you carry on being a slave to this Viper until _she_ kills you. Or you can accept my offer, we will remove that device right now, and you will be free.”

Viktoria swallowed hard. The barrel of the gun dropped ever so slightly, but she wasn’t convinced yet. “Free to do what?” she asked, full of derisive suspicion. “Sit in a cell for the rest of my life?”

I shook my head. “Not a cell, no. You’ll have to stay with us for a while, until we are happy that you are not a threat, but providing you co-operate, you will be well treated. Help us rid the world of Hydra, and I promise I will arrange a full pardon for you, and safe passage to wherever you want to go when this is all over.”

I didn’t miss the flash of venom that entered her eyes at that name. She truly hated the regime that had taken over her ordered world, but still she hesitated, unsure whether throwing her lot in with us would really improve matters. She shifted uncertainly.

“I don’t expect you to trust us,” I said softly. My lips twitched wryly. “I know I wouldn’t. Hell, it’s been nearly twenty years and I _still_ have trust issues. So, here’s how this works. Mel will remove the kill switch first, as a gesture of good faith. Then you come with us. Of course, my offer only holds if you then fulfil your side of the bargain. Try anything, and you _will_ end up in a cell.” I shrugged. “But you’ll still be alive, and well treated, as I said. We don’t chain prisoners to walls and torture them in _my_ organisation.” A hint of bitterness crept into my voice at the last, and she visibly supressed a flinch. I wondered if she had heard about what had happened to me, or if she had come in for a taste of the experience herself.

She remained still, staring at me thoughtfully, but I could see my argument was winning her over. She wanted what I was offering, badly. Slowly, cautiously, she lowered the gun. She eyed Melanie warily. “You’re the new one,” she said. “The one who heals…” She fell silent for another long moment.

I resisted the urge to hurry her. We couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity. The only other lead we had was Skuler, and he was still behaving in a mystifyingly erratic fashion, raiding offices and stealing records across the US. Bruce and Bucky were back at base right now, attempting to find some kind of pattern in his movements that would allow us to set an ambush, but my hopes on that front weren’t high. Viktoria was our best option… _if_ she could be persuaded to cooperate.

The seconds ticked by.

“You really think you can remove it?” she asked finally.

Melanie looked uncomfortable. “I can, but I have to warn you, this is not a simple procedure. The capsule is embedded deep between your vital organs. Getting to it will be dangerous, and exceedingly unpleasant. We have some basic surgical instruments in the medical kit in the jet, but no anaesthetics, just some mild tranquillisers. They may not be strong enough to keep you asleep through the pain.”

Victoria nodded slowly. She seemed reassured, rather than alarmed, by her warning. The other two exchanged glances, clearly wondering at her sanity, but her reaction made perfect sense to me. I would have been instantly alert for a trap had I been assured the procedure would be easy and painless. Melanie’s frank words, and blatant distress at the thought of causing her such pain, was convincingly sincere.

As though making up her mind, she suddenly tossed the gun lightly into the air, caught it by the barrel, and offered it to me. “I accept your offer,” she said calmly.

I took the proffered gun, smiling slightly. I wasn’t so naïve as to think she was now unarmed. She no doubt had several other weapons hidden on her person. “I’m glad.”

She smiled as well, seeing we understood one another.

“Sam, Rhodes, you get all that?” I asked, putting my hand to the comm device in my ear.

“Affirmative,” confirmed Sam’s voice, “and man, am I glad I’m not there to watch! You’re going to cut her open in a hotel room, are you insane? It’s like a horror movie!”

I rolled my eyes. “Just get the medical kit wrapped in cam foil and let us know when you’re ready.”

“Already on it. Maria’s manoeuvring into position now. Stand by.”

I looked at Melanie. “You’re up.”

She nodded, moving to the balcony, careful to remain just inside the doors where she was out of sight. Viktoria watched curiously. Her eyebrows rose in grudging admiration as a slice of air seemed to open up opposite us. The cloaked, hovering quinjet lowered its ramp, affording us a view of its interior that would be impossible to see from any other angle. Sam and Rhodes awaited just inside with a large, foil-wrapped package.

“All yours,” Rhodes called.

Frowning in concentration, Melanie caused the package to float up into the air. As it passed through the small gap between the building and the jet, I saw the cam foil react, altering its appearance so that it blended perfectly into the background, just in case anyone below happened to glance up. The package floated gently in through the balcony doors to deposit itself on the floor with a soft thump. Melanie immediately began unwrapping it, searching through the pack within for what she needed.

“Maria,” I ordered quietly over the comm. “Keep the jet as close as you can. We’re going to need to get out of here fast once this thing is removed.”

“Copy that,” Maria replied.

Viktoria watched expressionlessly as Wanda spread a sheet of surgical plastic over the bed, and Melanie laid out several packets on the beside cabinet. The wickedly sharp edge of a scalpel gleamed inside one of them. I was impressed by her composure. I knew that if she had suffered even half of what I had at the Red Room, this would not be the most horrific experience of her life, but it still took nerves of steel to face such an ordeal without flinching.

“What do you want me to do?” Viktoria asked calmly.

Melanie glanced at her. “Take off your outer clothing, please. Then lie down and try to relax, if you can.” She gulped and looked at me. “She… may not be able to help crying out,” she said a little unsteadily.

I grimaced. Nothing attracted attention like screams of agony. I ripped off a section of bed sheet and twisted it into a gag. Viktoria looked at it grimly but didn’t protest.

She kicked off her heels, removed her top and jeans with economical movements, folded them neatly and placed them on the sideboard. I rolled my eyes slightly in amusement at her choice of lingerie. It was a shame Chad was missing out. She sat gingerly on the plastic-covered bed, then shot a meaningful look at Wanda, who nodded understandingly.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said softly. “But yes, if anything happens, I’ll tell him.”

Viktoria nodded, once, then inclined her head at me. I gagged her as gently as I could manage, and she laid down, staring fixedly at the ceiling.

“Wanda, I’m going to need you to hold her down,” Melanie said. She held up a hypodermic syringe that she had just prepared. “This is a tranquilliser,” she told Viktoria. “It will put you to sleep, but like I said, I can’t guarantee it will be strong enough to _keep_ you asleep.”

Viktoria nodded again to show she understood. Her expression didn’t change as Melanie carefully injected her. A few seconds later, her eyelids drooped, then closed.

“So far so good,” Wanda muttered. Waving her hands, she sent crimson light curling around the woman’s shoulders, arms and legs, holding her firmly to the bed. She didn’t move, for the moment deeply asleep.

Melanie laid her hands on the woman’s abdomen, frowning in concentration.

“Do you have to cut in?” I asked. “Couldn’t you just disintegrate it where it is?”

Melanie shook her head. “Too risky. I can’t be sure I’ve gotten all of it unless I remove it intact. If one drop of that poison spills while it’s still inside her, she’ll be dead in seconds.”

“Okay, you’re the expert.”

“Expert. Yeah right,” she muttered darkly. “Because I have so much experience in surgery…”

“At least you can see what’s going on in there,” Wanda suggested reassuringly. “Most surgeons are operating blind compared to you.”

She nodded grudgingly, then sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes. The device is here, packed in amongst her intestines.” She laid a finger on Viktoria’s stomach just to the left of her navel. “I’m going to attempt to draw it out the same way I pulled the bullets out of your leg and shoulder, except obviously there’s no entry wound, so I’m going to have to cut an exit path…” She unwrapped a scalpel from its sterile packaging as she spoke.

“Sounds simple enough,” I said lightly.

She ignored me, dropping into a halfway-trancelike state as she stared intently at and into the woman on the bed, mapping her internal anatomy in her mind. For a full five minutes she remained motionless. Then, so suddenly she made me jump, she moved. Shockingly red blood welled up and ran over her hands as she sliced an incision.

“Oh yuck,” Wanda muttered, averting her gaze as Melanie parted the muscle and delved deeper.

Viktoria’s eyelids fluttered and she moaned into the gag. Wanda clenched her jaw, holding her firmly immobile as she started to writhe. I grimaced, willing Melanie to hurry. As predicted, the tranquillisers we had had to hand weren’t strong enough to counteract this level of stimulus. The woman was waking up, the pain jolting her out of her drugged state. Feeling a little queasy, I made a mental note to upgrade the jet’s first aid pack to include a full field surgery kit, including morphine and anaesthetics, as soon as possible. In the meantime, there wasn’t much I could do other than keep the noise from attracting attention. I quickly switched on the tv set, turning up the volume to cover the agonised sounds coming from the bed.

“Almost got it,” Melanie muttered. She was white as a sheet and spoke through gritted teeth, as she delicately worked her way around the woman’s internal organs.

Viktoria’s eyes were wide open now, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white as she fought to keep from screaming, biting down on the gag in her mouth.

“Dish,” Melanie snapped, and I hurried to hold ready the receptacle she had set out, Wanda being fully occupied keeping the woman still.

I watched in morbid fascination as a glint of silver appeared amongst the gore, then resolved into a small device, digging itself apparently unaided out from between the woman’s intestines. The sucking sound it made as it emerged was enough to turn even my strong stomach, and the less said about the smell the better.

Viktoria made a strangled noise into the gag as the device wrenched itself free of her body, floating lightly through the air to land in the dish I was holding. Melanie blew a fervent sigh of relief, then closed her eyes, resting her hand over the wound she had made, heedless of the blood, sending her awareness deep into the woman’s cells to repair the damage she had done.

I stared in revulsion at the gore-smeared object in the dish. It was a small clear pouch about the size of my finger nail, filled with an evil-looking dark green liquid, nestled into a gleaming slivery casing of electronics. A tiny light blinked on and off at regular intervals. I laid it carefully to one side for the moment and turned to check on the patient. I was pleased to find her lying quietly, clearly in a great deal of discomfort still, but no longer in searing agony. I watched in fascination, never tiring of the sight of Melanie’s miraculous powers in action. The severed muscle was swiftly knitting together, the wound she had made becoming smaller and smaller.

Wanda released Viktoria and pulled free the gag. She raised her head to see what Melanie was doing.

“That’s not something you see every day,” she commented a little shakily in Russian, struggling to keep her head raised. I could almost see the strength draining out of her as her energy was used to fuel the healing.

Wanda gently supported her head. “It’s okay,” she told her soothingly as Viktoria started to look panicked by the sudden wave of weakness. “Mel is tricking your cells into reproducing and repairing at an accelerated rate, but the energy to do that has to come from you, that’s why you feel like this. You’ll need to rest and eat to replenish your reserves, but you’ll be good as new in a day or two.”

“More like a week,” Melanie interjected, coming out of her trance. “Sorry, a trained surgeon would have done a neater job; I’m afraid I had to go for brute force. I caused a bit of damage to your intestines digging that thing out; I’ve repaired it all, but it’s going to take a good few days of food and rest before you’re fit again.” She grabbed some sterile padding to mop up the remains of the blood, and as she cleaned off her stomach I saw that the wound had vanished, leaving only a thin line of new, pink skin to show where it had been.

Viktoria struggled into a sitting position, sagging exhaustedly against the headboard for support. She examined her stomach with an expression of wonder, then looked somewhat dazedly around.

Understanding, I picked up the dish and held it out so she could see the device that had been inside her. A look of mixed revulsion and awe flickered across her face as she stared at it.

“I’m free?” she whispered. She looked at Melanie. “You’re sure there’s nothing else in me?”

Melanie shook her head, smiling wearily. “Nothing in there now but you. I promise.”

Viktoria swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. I couldn’t blame her for feeling emotional. I couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to live like that, knowing your life could be extinguished remotely on a whim. This mysterious Viper had as much to answer for as Goravitch. She licked her lips, seemed to struggle for words.

“You’re welcome,” Melanie said gently.

“What do we do with that?” Wanda asked, eyeing the device with distaste.

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. “We might be able to learn something from it. I’d like to take it back for Shuri and Bruce to examine, but we need to keep our enemies guessing at where our new friend has disappeared to. So… let’s see if this works…” I picked it up very carefully between my finger and thumb, and fired one of the shock devices at my wrist. Blue sparks crackled over the casing, and the tiny light abruptly went out.

Grinning, I dropped the now defunct device back in the dish and handed it to Melanie. “There you go. No more tracker. Bag and tag it. Let’s get going before they come looking to see what’s happened.” I put my hand back to my ear. “Maria, we need to go, what’s your status?”

“Already getting back in position,” Maria replied promptly, her voice tense with concentration. Manoeuvring the jet this low and this close to buildings took serious skill. “Two minutes.”

“Copy that.” I helped Wanda hurriedly clear up the mess and repack the medical kit, while Melanie dealt with securing the device so no-one could accidently come into contact with the poison inside it, and Viktoria struggled back into her clothes. Within a minute, there was no sign anything untoward had happened within this room.

“What’s your extraction plan?” Viktoria asked me, trying to stand. “If anyone sees us leave…”

“They won’t,” I promised, pushing her gently back down on the bed. “Don’t worry. Rest. Mel?”

“Ready,” she said briskly.

“Maria?”

“Lowering ramp now.”

Wrapping the medical kit back in the cam foil, Melanie floated it back across into the jet. The sight of Rhodes and Sam, standing to all appearances in mid-air, catching it and hauling it in made me smile. They unwrapped the cam foil and Melanie floated it back again and turned to Viktoria.

“Try and lie still,” she advised her.

The woman’s eyes opened wide, but she did as instructed, although she couldn’t help but release a slight gasp as her body floated up off the bed. Between us, we wrapped her in the foil, covering her completely in the camouflaging sheet, before Melanie moved her quickly across into the jet. Then she grabbed mine and Wanda’s hands and in a flash of gold, we were standing next to Sam, helping him lift Viktoria onto the medical trolley.

“You people are insane,” the woman said weakly. She stared at Melanie and Wanda in bafflement. “You could rule the world with powers like yours…”

The two of them exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Far too much effort,” Melanie pronounced.

“It’s a lot nicer being loved than feared,” Wanda said lightly. “Trust me, I know.”

“But you could have anything you want!” Viktoria insisted.

A spasm of pain crossed Wanda’s face. “Not anything,” she said shortly, and she turned away.

Viktoria watched her walk away to sit with Rhodes and Sam, puzzled.

Melanie and I exchanged looks, but made no comment.

“You should sleep,” Melanie told the woman gently. “Your body needs rest.”

Viktoria didn’t reply. Her eyes remained stubbornly open, though I could see she was having to fight to stay awake. I couldn’t really blame her. I wouldn’t have been happy with the idea of dozing off in a plane full of strangers either, especially strangers that had been deadly enemies half an hour ago.

“What happens now?” she asked tensely after a minute.

I shrugged. “You rest, and heal. And you tell us everything you know.”

****

By the time we arrived back at the compound, Viktoria had lost her battle to remain awake. I took advantage of the deep sleep Melanie’s healing induced to search her for concealed weapons, divesting her of her watch, containing a strangling wire and EMP, and a thin, needle-sharp razor blade, expertly hidden in an almost invisible sheath along the seam of her jeans.

“Get her to the infirmary,” I instructed softly.

“I’ll take her,” Sam offered gently, seeing Melanie stir herself wearily. “You look like you could do with some shut-eye yourself.”

Melanie smiled gratefully as he lifted the woman. “I could do with an early night,” she admitted. “It got… pretty intense back there.”

“You did amazing,” I told her softly.

She turned her smile on me, making my pulse quicken. “Thanks, love.”

“Here,” I said quickly, handing the watch, knife and bag containing the kill device to Wanda. “Take these to Shuri and Bruce in the lab, will you please?”

“Sure,” she said easily, taking the items and following Sam.

“Rhodes, make sure the infirmary is secure, but don’t make it obvious,” I requested.

He nodded. “Sure thing boss.” He smiled. “You take care of our little miracle worker there. Sam’s right,” he said to Melanie. “You look bushed.”

“I’ll take care of her,” I said, smiling.

“Will you now?” Melanie murmured, stepping into my arms as the others departed. Her lips twitched in amusement. “Again?” She draped her arms around my neck. “I’m going to be worn out at this rate…” she said laughingly, but with a hint of curiosity. Despite the demands of the mission, I had still had to find time for my antidote twice today. Her touch worked wonders, reducing my anxiety and rage back down to manageable levels, but it always returned. I flushed and bit my lip, then relaxed in relief as she kissed me rather than questioning. I knew she was confused by my abrupt reversal from stubbornly untouchable to completely insatiable over the last few days, but she seemed to have decided it was at least a marked improvement over my previous withdrawal. I knew she sensed that something seriously worrying lay behind my behaviour, and that she ached for me to confide in her, but, being Melanie, she didn’t press me. Though I was beyond grateful for her seemingly limitless patience, it made me feel even more guilty that I was keeping secrets from her.

Lying in the security of her embrace, I _had_ tried to tell her, more than once, but fear dried up my throat and tied my tongue in knots, made speaking the words impossible. Though her love helped me resume an appearance of normality, I felt brittle, constantly on edge. Fear of losing her haunted me, both asleep and awake. If she found out… if she left me… My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. The very thought filled me with abject terror. If I lost Melanie, I feared I would lose myself as well. More, without her, I feared I would lose any reason to even _try_ to hold on to my sanity.

“Nat?” Melanie whispered, worried by the growing tension she could feel in my body.

I forced myself to relax. “I’m fine,” I lied. I smiled, raising an eyebrow speculatively. “So how long do you think Viktoria will sleep…?”

With a laugh, Melanie pulled me closer. Twin suns kindled in her eyes as she prepared to take us somewhere more private.

“Long enough…”


	7. 7.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hydra strike again.

“Nat, I think she’s finally waking up,” Maria reported.

I looked up from my task, then stood up to move to her side, studying the security monitors. Sure enough, slight signs of movement were visible from the woman in the white bed in the quarantine section of the infirmary, a secure cubicle of triple reinforced, inch-thick Perspex jokingly nicknamed ‘the goldfish bowl’. We had spent a frustrating few days watching her lie there motionless, sleeping off the effects of her operation and healing. Until she awoke, we wouldn’t know if she intended to keep her side of our bargain, and tell us what we desperately needed to know.

“Hallelujah,” Rhodes muttered fervently.

I had to agree. The waiting had added to the already abundant strain on my nerves. Skuler had disappeared again, so that line of investigation was defunct. We had no new leads to follow, and none of our contacts with the intelligence agencies of the world had been able to put a face or facts to the name Viper. Even Fury had never heard of her, which was worrying in itself. That this woman had managed to resurrect Hydra, rise to such an exalted position as its leader, not to mention command the loyalty of men like Goravitch and Skuler, all without a single whisper of her existence escaping prior to this, was extremely disturbing. Until we knew more, we had no way to gauge the level of threat we were facing, and our one and only means of acquiring that information lay on the infirmary cot. If Viktoria refused to talk, we were at a dead end.

 _Possibly literally_ , I thought morbidly.

Sam moved to my side, a faint frown creasing his brow as he studied her stirring figure on the monitors. I had caught him staring at her with the same perplexed look several times over the last three days, and now my curiosity got the better of me.

“Sam, you look confused. What’s on your mind? Spit it out,” I said.

He looked embarrassed, glancing between me and the woman on the screen. “I was only wondering… Do the Russians have any spies that _aren’t_ beautiful women?”

“Why thank you, Sam,” I said brightly. I laughed as he blushed. “And yes, to answer your question, of course they do. There are several more militant academies spewing out thugs like Skuler. The Red Room was a different kind of training ground, producing highly specialised agents. Not exclusively female ones, there were male students too, but they were in the minority. The KGB decided a long time ago that attractive female operatives had certain natural advantages, as poor old Chad has demonstrated.”

Bucky snorted derisively from where he leaned against the wall.

I looked at him. “Like you never did anything stupid to impress a girl back in the day,” I said teasingly.

He shrugged, smiling faintly. “Perhaps.” His serious expression returned. “You realise, even if she co-operates, she still might be dangerous. She could be brainwashed.” He was understandably more sensitive to that possibility than most.

“Why do you think she’s in there?” I retorted, indicating the quarantine cubicle. “It’s the most secure place in the building.” _Other than my cell in the basement_ , I added mentally. _And_ _I can hardly put her in there, seen as none of the others know it exists_. The corner of his mouth twitched, as though hearing my silent comment. Since I had resumed an appearance of normality, he had suggested, tentatively, that maybe it was time to tell the others about my problem. He found excuses to be in my vicinity much of the time, but as he pointed out, he couldn’t follow me around constantly like a faithful dog without the others getting suspicious. If the rage came over me again when he wasn’t there, without help I might not be able to prevent myself from hurting someone. His observation did nothing to help my anxiety, but I was reluctant to give in to his suggestion. I was still loath for anyone to know, and after all, it had now been over a fortnight without another episode. I was even starting to dare hope it might have been a one-off. Perhaps my unconscious mind had once again sealed my inner demon away, and it never would happen again. If we could just finish Hydra once and for all, I was determined to retire, find myself and Melanie some quiet little place where we could live in peace. With no stress to trigger the reaction, I wouldn’t have to live with the fear of the monster inside me anymore…

A loud beeping sound interrupted my thoughts.

“Nat, we’ve got a hit,” Rhodes called excitedly across the room. “A blip just popped up on the satellite tracking, in Alaska. Right off any flight routes, and it wasn’t there a second ago. According to the search algorithm you wrote, eighty-seven percent probability that it’s their jet uncloaking.”

“In Alaska?” I said sceptically. I hurried over to examine the satellite feed. “What could they possibly want in Alaska?” I stared at the map on the screen. A flashing orange oval blinked next to a small village on the edge of a large lake, labelled Echo Bay.

“Echo Bay,” I repeated, puzzled.

“Small hamlet, maybe a dozen extended families,” Maria reported, already looking it up. “Main activities fishing and trapping… doesn’t seem to have any strategic relevance… pretty much self-sufficient, almost tribal, they’re so far from anywhere.”

“Maybe they’ve established a base there?” Rhodes suggested doubtfully.

I shook my head, eyes narrowed. “There’s no way they would uncloak the jet if they were arriving at a base, they aren’t stupid, they know we are looking. Can we get a visual?”

Maria clucked her tongue, searching. “No CCTV or web-connected cameras of any kind. I doubt there is even mobile phone signal out there, and none of our satellites are in range. We’re blind.”

I sighed. “Rhodes, Sam, grab a ground team and go check it out. They’ll probably be long gone before you get there, but maybe you can find some clue as to what they were doing.”

“Great,” Sam grouched, heaving himself out of his chair. “Another frozen hell-hole to go investigate.”

Rhodes saluted smartly, grinning, and turned to leave. He raised an eyebrow questioningly at Bucky, asking if he wanted to join the party, but Bucky shook his head, his eyes on the security monitors. Viktoria was now sitting up, I noticed. One of the medical team appeared to be attempting to speak to her, but she was ignoring him. As I watched, her eyes found the security camera, and she seemed to stare accusingly right at me.

“Our guest is not amused,” Bucky observed. “I’ll stay here. If she gets difficult, Nat might need a hand.”

“Suit yourself,” Rhodes agreed. He and Sam hurried off.

“Maria, keep watching that blip, and stay in contact with the boys,” I instructed, heading for the door myself. “I’m going to go check in with our guest. Let Shuri know she’s awake, and send her down as soon as she’s ready.”

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky said. “Just in case.”

I rolled my eyes slightly at the dual meaning he put into his words, but made no comment as he fell into step beside me.

We made our way through the building to the infirmary. I could hear the ringing tones of the medic, sounding a little frantic, as we neared the door to the quarantine section.

“Madam, please, I must insist you sit down. No, please, don’t pull that out, really, you could do yourself serious damage –“

I supressed a smile as I swept into the room. The medic whirled.

“Is there a problem, Tobias?” I asked calmly. I made a point of knowing all my people by name, even the ones I had very little contact with.

The man wilted. “N-no, Commander,” he stammered. “I mean, yes, I mean… the young lady seems agitated, Commander.”

I eyed Viktoria, who stood on the other side of the reinforced glass. She glowered at me, tossing aside the cannula that she had clearly just ripped out of her arm.

“That will be all, Tobias,” I told him gently. “Our guest appears to be recovering nicely, but I’m sure she’s very hungry by now, and that makes the best of us crabby. Please arrange a meal to be sent down for her, and then you can leave her to me for the moment.”

A look of intense relief passed over his face. “Certainly, Commander,” he said fervently. “Right away.” He scuttled off as though he couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

I shook my head in amusement. “Really, Viktoria,” I chided the woman. “You’ve been awake five minutes and you’ve already frightened one of my staff out of his wits. Is that any way to show gratitude?”

“He wouldn’t let me out,” she said sullenly.

“Of course he wouldn’t,” I told her, slightly exasperated. “I told him not to.”

She banged her fist against the glass. “I thought we had a deal. You said I wouldn’t be locked up in a cell.”

“This isn’t a cell, its quarantine, and its temporary,” I advised her smoothly. “Trust me, a cell would be a great deal less comfortable. I know better than anyone what you are capable of, Viktoria. Think about it. If this was a cell, would I have left all the furnishings in it?”

She pursed her lips, taken aback. “I suppose not.” She relaxed a fraction. “You’re right. It never ceases to amaze me that people imprison me in rooms with so many _things_ in them, it never occurs to them they are simply handing me weapons.”

“Tell me about it,” I agreed. “There was this one time a mobster had me tied to a chair. The look on his face when I clobbered him with that same chair was priceless.”

She smirked. “I bet.” Then she grimaced and slumped back down on the bed as though reaching the limits of her energy.

I pulled over a nearby chair and reversed it, straddling the seat and resting my arms on the back. “How are you feeling?”

She examined herself thoughtfully. “Wobbly, but better than I expected. I feel like I slept the clock around.”

“You have. Several times, actually,” I replied drily.

She looked shocked. “How long was I asleep?”

“Three days.”

Her eyes narrowed accusingly. “You drugged me again.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s just what happens after Melanie heals you. She has to use your own energy to fuel the process, so your body automatically shuts down for a while to recover its reserves.” I smiled crookedly. “I should know, I’ve been through it myself enough times.”

She cocked her head, surprised. “Really? The Black Widow actually gets injured? I thought you were invincible or something?”

I laughed. “Hardly. Is that what they tell you?”

She looked embarrassed, but nodded. “Not officially, but you hear stories… When I was at the Red Room, there were whispers about you. It was forbidden to say your name, but that didn’t stop the rumours… they used to say you were so fast no bullet could hit you. That you could shoot the bullets right out of the air. That you could kill with a touch, and disappear like a shadow…” She pursed her lips. “Lately, the story is that you were brought back from the dead, and now you can’t be killed.”

My brows shot up. “What am I supposed to be, a vampire or something?” I demanded incredulously.

She shrugged awkwardly. “It’s just what they say.” She grimaced. “At least it shut Skuler and his cronies up.”

My eyes narrowed. “Been bragging have they?” I said bitterly.

“That they beat Black Widow to a pulp and ‘showed her what a woman was for’?” she mimicked, sounding angry. “Of course they were bragging. It was probably the highlight of their twisted lives, the sick bastards. At least until the undead stories started. Then someone suggested they might be contaminated and their parts might start shrivelling up.” She grinned maliciously. “Can’t imagine who could have started that rumour.” Then she pulled a face. “I should have let them carry on. Zombie parts would have been the least of their worries if Viper caught them airing their ideas on women.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “There’s a story going around that she once cut off a man’s penis, had it deep fried and made him eat it.”

“Jesus,” Bucky muttered, crossing his legs.

I wasn’t sure whether to wince in sympathy or smirk at the thought of Skuler being subjected to the rule of such a woman… I hope she did catch him airing his views, I thought spitefully.

My eyes narrowed, a thought occurring to me. “You say you heard Skuler bragging, after we destroyed the Red Room. Where was this?”

She rolled her eyes. “On board Goravitch’s fancy submarine. They wouldn’t have dared otherwise, not anywhere Viper might hear about it, but down there? They knew they were safe enough, especially with Goravitch unconscious. He was badly injured. Skuler and his gang, or the ones that were left after your people tore them up, pulled him out before the building collapsed.” She sighed. “I didn’t have much choice but to help them. I wanted to run, but I knew Viper would just flip my kill switch if I was unaccounted for. My only option for staying alive was to go with them. We had to spend over a month cooped up in that underwater tin can, while his burns healed.”

“You were there? What were you doing at the Red Room, if you weren’t a trainee anymore?” Bucky demanded suspiciously.

She looked sour. “I was between missions, so I got stuck with incentive duty.” She cocked her head at our puzzled looks. “Did they not have incentives in your day?”

I shrugged, still not sure what she meant.

She elaborated. “If you successfully complete a mission, or your superiors are pleased with you for some reason, you earn an incentive, a reward. The more pleased with your performance they are, the longer you get to have your fun.” She sighed. “Agents never used to serve in that capacity. But since Viper took over…” She curled her lip in distaste. “ _Goravitch_ doesn’t seem interested in that sort of thing, but he likes to keep his band of bully boys happy. He rewards them often. Especially Skuler. I guess the tattooed freak had been kissing up to his master big time, because I was told to report to him for a whole week. And then you lot trashed the place, and he saved Goravitch’s life, so then of course the incentive period got… extended.” She shrugged with resignation. “It could have been worse, I suppose. His quarters were far more comfortable than the tiny little hole they gave me, and he didn’t feel like sharing, so at least I didn’t have to waste any time discouraging the rest of his bullies.”

Feeling sickened, I remembered how Goravitch had offered me to those same bullies as a reward. My heart sinking, I realised there _had_ been a similar system in place in my day, albeit less official. After all, Madame B had ordered Tanya to my bed as a reward for bringing Wanda into the fold… Nauseated that I had unwittingly participated in such a system, I looked at Viktoria with grudging respect. She was amazingly resilient. I didn’t like to think of what it must have been like to be trapped with that piece of scum for an entire month. Although, between that experience and the kill switch, it was no wonder she was now willing to turn coat.

“That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard,” Bucky muttered from where he leaned against the wall behind me.

Viktoria eyed him curiously, taking in the metal arm. She seemed genuinely puzzled by his comment. “I don’t understand. You can’t expect us to be celibate surely? We aren’t allowed to fraternise with each other, or seek diversions outside, so we have to scratch our itch somehow.”

“You’re _defending_ that system?” he demanded. “After it meant you got stuck with Skuler, against your will?”

She shrugged. “I don’t agree with how its currently run, sure, but it worked just fine before.” Her lips twitched. “There used to be a group of specialists who took care of that side of things, and man, did they enjoy their jobs.” Her smile became dreamy for a moment, as though remembering something very pleasant. Then she raised an eyebrow as Bucky snorted, and glanced questioningly at me. “Your band of freaks don’t get incentives?”

“No,” I said coldly. “They do not. My band of freaks, as you call them, are all here because they want to serve the common good, not because they get sex on tap.”

“Well,” drawled Bucky with another snort. “ _Most_ of us don’t…”

I flushed scarlet. “Do you mind?”

He smirked. “Oh come on, you and Mel are at it like rabbits!”

“And you and Shuri aren’t?” I shot back, incensed. “We’ve been together longer than you have! We have as much right as you two to be ‘at it’ as much as we like! Mind your own business! And kindly stop insinuating that I’m extorting perks from my team members!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well that’s what it sounded like!”

He grimaced. “Sorry.”

“I should think so.”

I turned back to Viktoria, who looked fascinated by our little spat. She shook her head. “You people are crazy,” she murmured.

I smiled, understanding her confusion. Being an assassin was a very isolating existence. The kind of friendly bickering and teasing that I now took for granted had been as bewildering for me at one time as it was for her now. “You get used to it.”

She hesitated. “So if you don’t have incentives… you allow your people to choose their partners? Have personal relationships?”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t exactly indulge in one myself and not let the rest of them do the same, can I?”

She looked surprised. “You’re in charge aren’t you? Isn’t that what being the boss is all about, having privileges the others don’t?”

“No,” I said firmly. “That’s not how it works here. I command because my people decided I was the best person for the job. They obey my orders because someone has to make the decisions, and they trust me to make the right ones. Other than that, we all share the same privileges.”

She chewed her lip for a minute, wrestling with herself, then finally gave in and asked the question I suspected she had been wanting to ask for some time. “Is Chad alright?”

“He’s fine,” I assured her. “We moved him to a safe house, just in case your boss comes looking for him. He can’t leave, but he’s unharmed.”

She dropped her eyes. “Have you told him, about me?”

I sighed. “Yes. He’s… upset.” According to Wanda, who I had assigned to keep an eye on him temporarily, he was a lot more than merely upset. Chad was desolate. I had endured an earful only that morning from her on how much she was _not_ enjoying being stuck in a house with a weeping, melodramatic man-child who kept declaring his life was over. She confided to me that if he didn’t stop being such a drama queen, she was quite tempted to put him out of his misery herself! I decided Viktoria probably didn’t need to hear Wanda’s unflattering appraisal of the man. For reasons of her own, Viktoria had developed a soft spot for him, which gave us some leverage to use on her if needed. And I could hardly condemn her for finding herself becoming personally involved with someone while on a mission, not after my experience with Tanya. I was all too painfully aware of how complicated these things could be.

Viktoria looked sad. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” she mumbled.

“I’m sure he’ll recover,” I said wryly.

“Can I see him?”

I regarded her thoughtfully. “Perhaps, if he is willing. But not yet. You have a bargain to keep,” I reminded her.

She scowled. “So do you. I don’t like being locked up, cell or not. When are you planning to let me out?”

“When we’re sure you’re not a threat,” I informed her frankly. “Which you may be, whether you know it or not. I’m afraid we have a great deal of experience with Hydra, and they have a bad habit of brainwashing their operatives. We have to be sure there are no little surprises hidden in your mind.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You think I might be a sleeper agent?”

I shrugged. “To be honest, I think it’s unlikely, but we can’t be too careful. Which is why an expert will be here to examine you shortly.” I shot a meaningful look at Bucky, who nodded and went to see what was keeping Shuri. “Don’t worry, she’s very gentle, she won’t hurt you, but I advise you to cooperate. The sooner she tells me you’re clean, the sooner you get out of that glass box.”

“And if she finds something?” she asked, looking worried. “What then?”

I smiled. “She’s also our expert in removing mental programming. If there’s anything there, she’ll get rid of it. She’s done it before.”

She didn’t look entirely reassured, but nodded, resigned. “Well I hope I get to eat first. I’m starving.”

“A meal should be here for you shortly. Anything else you need?” I asked, getting to my feet.

She looked down at herself, wrinkling her nose fastidiously. “A shower would be nice.”

“That will have to wait, I’m afraid, but I’ll arrange some water for you to wash up and some clean clothes.” The sound of footsteps made me turn my head.

“This is Shuri,” I introduced her as the Wakandan skipped eagerly into the room. Bucky was behind her, pushing a trolley holding scanning equipment. To my surprise, Melanie followed.

“Hello,” Shuri said brightly. “I’m here to take a look at your brain.” She grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t mess with it.”

“Thanks,” Viktoria muttered sourly.

“How long will this take?” I asked Shuri.

She shrugged. “If we were in my lab, with my own equipment, not long at all. Here, with what I’ve managed to rig up… maybe a few hours. Longer if I find anything.”

I glanced at Melanie questioningly.

“I asked Mel to help,” Shuri explained cheerfully. “With her abilities, she can pinpoint unusual chemical activity in her brain even more accurately than the scanner. It’s really quite fascinating how she does it -”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said hurriedly. Trying to understand the impossible way Melanie saw things gave me a headache. I glanced at her, feeling a churning in my stomach. My anger and anxiety were becoming uncomfortable again, returning ever more frequently over the last three days. I had been planning to set Bruce and Shuri to work on Viktoria while I coaxed Melanie into topping up my antidote once more, but now it was just going to have to wait.

She saw the look and frowned slightly. “Are you alright?” she murmured, putting up a hand to brush a loose strand of hair back from my face.

I cradled her palm against my cheek for a moment, taking what calming effect I could from the simple touch. “I’m fine,” I replied. I was repeating this lie so often these days I almost believed it myself. I pressed my lips briefly to her palm, then shrugged off her touch reluctantly and smiled at her. “Go do your thing.”

I turned my attention back to Viktoria, who, I noticed, was watching us with a faintly stunned expression, as though she had just made the connection to Bucky’s flippant comment earlier. Her lip curled, and I felt a stab of irritation. “Shuri and Melanie will be coming in there with you,” I informed her coldly. “And in case you were thinking of trying anything, don’t. Shuri has as much combat training as you do, and is perfectly capable of slicing and dicing you in a matter of seconds, and Mel – well, you’ve already seen what she can do, and believe me, she can take you apart a lot faster than she put you back together.”

Viktoria blanched. “I won’t try anything.” She cast me a sullen look. “I’m keeping my side of the bargain.”

Slightly ashamed of myself, I merely nodded, and left them to it.

Bucky fell in beside me as I headed back to the control room.

I glanced at him. “Don’t you want to stay and make sure Shuri doesn’t get hurt?”

He shook his head smiling faintly. “Like you said, she can take care of herself.” His smile faded. “I’m more worried about you. It’s getting worse isn’t it?”

I pressed my lips together and didn’t answer.

“Seriously, don’t you think you should tell the others? Or at least Mel?”

“Mel has enough to deal with. I can handle it,” I told him stubbornly. “Really, I’m fine.”

He looked at me, opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again with a sigh. “Of course you are,” he muttered in resignation.

*****

The comm beeped urgently.

Maria and I broke off our discussion in mid-sentence and hurried to the centre of the control room.

“It’s Rhodes,” Maria reported, checking the display.

“Let’s see him,” I ordered, eager to know what they had found in Alaska. The stolen jet had once more disappeared off the radar about half an hour previously. I hoped they had left some clue behind as to what they had been up to; I was still baffled as to what they could possibly want in a tiny, remote hamlet in the frozen north.

Rhodes’ hologram flickered into being. I rocked back a step, my eyes wide at his appearance. His War Machine suit was streaked with soot. His face was haggard, his eyes haunted.

“Nat,” he acknowledged me woodenly.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, aghast.

Rhodes swallowed hard. “We arrived a few minutes ago. This is what we found.” He stretched out a hand, pushing a button we couldn’t see to allow us to access the exterior camera. The main screen blinked into life on our far wall.

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the room, before a deathly silence fell. I stared in horror at the live footage being streamed from the jet.

Thick black smoke rose from the hulking wrecks of what had been a cluster of cabins. Soot and ash stained the snow in filthy streaks. It was like seeing an old black and white film of a war-zone… except, standing out starkly against the white and black and grey, I could see splashes of red.

“Brace yourself,” Rhodes said quietly. He changed to a different camera.

My stomach churned and I let out a strangled sound. There, in the middle of what had clearly been some kind of central village square, was a pile of bodies. They had been stacked almost artistically into a compact pyramid. A tiny, pathetic form, a baby probably no more than a week old, formed the pinnacle of the macabre sculpture.

Rage ignited like a supernova in the centre of my chest.

No-one noticed my expression change, too busy staring in rapt horror at the screen.

The images vanished as Rhodes cut the feed, but I could still see the dead, as though the footage had been branded into the back of my eyes.

“We found one survivor,” Rhodes said, his voice thick with emotion. “An old woman. She’s half mad with grief, she’s not making a lot of sense, but from what she’s babbling…” He swallowed hard. “They didn’t kill everyone. They took prisoners. About twenty or so. They made her watch while they executed everyone else, then left her tied up in the snow.”

I began to tremble, my nails digging into my palms.

Bucky moved to my side. “Nat, maybe you should step outside for a minute,” he said with forced calmness.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My whole being was locked in a titanic struggle for control as a howl of hatred built up in my throat. Pain lanced through my skull, and bloodlust turned my vision red. I wanted nothing but to kill, to tear limb from limb the ones who had done this…

“Nat,” Bucky hissed urgently. “Nat, you’re losing it!”

I heard the words dimly, vaguely felt his tugging on my arm. A hint of panic seeped around the edges of my fury. If I lost control here, none of my people were safe!

People were beginning to stare, their attention distracted from the screen to me by Bucky’s warning. Their alarm as they took in the extreme menace in my expression only goaded me further. I imagined I could sense the monster rippling beneath my skin, eagerly rearing its ugly head, scenting a dozen lives to extinguish mere feet away. I could almost feel the exquisite pleasure it would take in their flesh rending under my claw-like fingers…

With a strangled noise, I forced myself to move. Ignoring the confused looks and yelps of shock, I staggered out of the room and began to run, weaving as though drunk. I imagined the monster’s inner howl of anger at being thwarted, the pain of it piercing me like a spear through my brain. Banging off the wall as I lurched around the corner, I smacked straight into Bruce.

“Nat?” he exclaimed in concern. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

I ignored him, pushing past him though I could barely see where I was going, frantic to get to the door to the basement. The agony of holding back the tide of bloodlust was unbearable. I was clinging to sanity by a thread. Any second, I was going to snap, and the monster would be loose…

“Out of the way!” Bucky snapped at Bruce, suddenly appearing behind me, sweeping me up and tossing me over his shoulder as he raced for the basement as fast as he could go.

I groaned, clutching my head. “Hurry!” I managed to get out between clenched teeth. The pain was tearing me apart… My back arched as the rage surged, and Bucky nearly dropped me.

Swearing foully under his breath, he almost fell down the stairs into the basement, hurtling into the cell we had prepared for this. He threw me down on the floor, in too much of a hurry to be gentle, and fumbled with the chains, snapping the manacles onto my wrists.

“What the blazes?” shouted Bruce, appearing in the doorway, Maria right behind him, complete shock on both their faces. “What are you doing to her?”

“Get out!” I screamed in panic. My control disintegrated. Bucky fell back, spreading his arms to keep the others out of reach as I lunged, straining at the end of my chains, my teeth bared in a feral snarl.

“Get out!” I screamed again, as the rage took hold. “Get out, get out, get out!”

I hated them! I hated all of them! The fury burned hotter than an explosion. I shrieked like a banshee and strained against the chains, the lust to kill searing away coherent thought. Bucky shoved the others roughly out of the room. The last thing I remembered seeing was their horrified faces as Bucky pulled the door shut, leaving a mindless creature to rail in impotent rage in the darkness.


	8. 8.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's secret is out.

The darkness was thick, and quiet.

I rested my aching head against the cool concrete. The door creaked open, and a rectangle of light crept across the floor to fall on me where I huddled against the opposite wall. I averted my face, refused to look up at the silent figures silhouetted in the doorway.

Quiet footsteps came closer, and Bucky crouched down beside me.

“You back with us?” he asked warily.

I nodded, once, not looking at him.

He reached to remove the manacles.

“Don’t,” I whispered.

I didn’t deserve to be freed. I deserved to stay down here in the dark, chained to the wall like the monster I was. I couldn’t bear to face my friends, now that they knew. I must repulse them, though not nearly as much as I repulsed myself.

Bucky hesitated, his expression pained. “You’re injured,” he said softly.

I glanced down. Blood seeped sullenly from deep gashes where my straining against the manacles had torn my flesh. My wrists were hot and swollen, tightening the grip of the cruel iron. I was vaguely aware of pain, and welcomed it. It was no more than I deserved. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the wall, just wanting to be left alone.

Bucky heaved a deep sigh and retreated.

I heard familiar voices outside, raised in argument, but I tuned them out. After a while, they went away, and the quiet returned, although they had left the door open, the light still spilling into my space. I wished they had shut it, left me to rot in the dark.

I wasn’t wearing my watch, so I had no idea how much time passed. Enough that the cold from the floor seeped into my bones, until I lost the ability to control my shivering. Enough that the pins and needles in my legs and buttocks passed the point of discomfort, passed the point of agony, and my limbs were now numb and useless, splayed beneath me like sacks of wet sand. Enough that the blood from my wrists congealed and crusted over around the iron manacles, only for the scabs to crack and bleed afresh every time I moved. I kept shifting on purpose, the pain bringing me a certain savage satisfaction. I deserved this misery. I was a monster.

Several times I heard tentative footsteps creep down the stairs and through the adjoining room. I imagined them peeking around the door, anxiously checking that I was still here, safely locked up. I imagined the looks of curiosity and disgust on their faces. I imagined, because I refused to look, refused to acknowledge their presence, though it hurt to be stared at like some freakish beast in a zoo. The shame was a fitting punishment for my arrogance in thinking I was fit to lead these people.

I lost count of how many nameless figures tiptoed to the door and away before a heavier set of footsteps echoed through the basement, and a larger shadow fell over me. I didn’t have to look to know who it was this time. There was only one person who could block out the light that effectively.

Bruce stared at me grimly.

I ignored him, hoping he would go away.

He didn’t.

The silence sharpened until I could almost feel it slicing through the thick, damp basement air like a knife through stale bread. I set my jaw stubbornly, turning further towards the wall and supressing a wince as even that small movement jostled my wrists, cracking the scabs yet again.

I felt his eyes go to my wounds, and clenched my teeth harder. His gaze burned worse than the raw, bleeding gashes.

“So is this the plan now?” he asked finally. His voice sounded harsh and far too loud, ringing in my ears. “You’re going to stay chained in a damp cell until your hands rot off?”

I stared at the floor and sullenly refused to answer.

Bruce sighed. He stumped closer, and slowly hunkered his enormous bulk down beside me. For a time we sat in silence, staring at the same damp patch on the concrete.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked eventually. “You _know_ I understand what you’re going through. You could have talked to me.”

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

He sighed again. “Look, I know how you must be feeling right now. I know how bad I felt, in the beginning. But look on the bright side, it could be worse.”

“Worse?” Incredulity infuriated me into a reaction. My voice grated, still hoarse from the creature’s inhuman shrieks. “Please tell me how this could possibly be worse, Bruce! I could have killed everyone in this building! And not just killed them, _disembowelled_ them! Ripped them into tiny pieces and danced in their entrails…” I suddenly realised I had been goaded into talking and snapped my jaw shut.

“You could have, but you didn’t,” Bruce pointed out with a hint of triumph. “Like I said, it could be worse. At least you _can_ be contained. There’s no way these chains would have kept the Hulk from tearing this place apart.” He managed a strained smile. “I know we have a long history of competing for the title of biggest monster on the team, but I’m afraid my card _still_ trumps yours, and this impressive little dungeon of yours only goes to prove it. In this arena, you’re still second-best, my friend.”

I snorted. I could have offered several counter arguments, but I kept silent, glowering at the floor. Nor did I succumb to the temptation to snap at him to go away and leave me alone. It would be a waste of breath anyway.

Sure enough, Bruce ignored my blatant desire for solitude and doggedly continued his futile quest to talk me around. “I know you hate yourself right now. I know you think you failed us. But truly, you haven’t, Nat. The fact that you were willing to go to these lengths to keep everyone safe…” He trailed off, inarticulate for once, but his large eyes were full of admiration and sorrow as they lingered on the locks and chains.

In spite of myself, I felt a little bubble of warmth swell in my chest. I squashed it immediately, focussing on the cold concrete beneath me, the festering sores at my wrists. I was mistaken. That wasn’t respect I was seeing in his expression, that wasn’t affection and pride in his voice. I wasn’t worthy of such emotions. I was a _thing_ , a soulless, evil, dangerous creature, and no-one would ever look at me in love or trust again. A sob threatened to fight its way up my throat, and I had to press my lips together hard enough to bruise to keep it from escaping.

Bruce patted my shoulder awkwardly. “The simple truth of the matter is, we failed _you_ , if you thought we would ever turn away from you because of this.”

I stared at him, disbelieving, but there was no deceit in that broad, honest face. I might have broken my vow of silence again then, but my thoughts were so confused that Bruce was speaking again before I could quite wrap my tongue around a denial.

“We’re your friends, Nat. Your family. We love you; we need you. _Melanie_ needs you.”

“Melanie is _sickened_ by me!” I hissed, her name causing me physical pain, jolting the words from my lips before I could stop them. “She doesn’t want to be anywhere near me!” What other explanation could there be, after all, for why Bruce was here instead of her? If she still loved me, why had she not descended the basement steps in all her angelic fury, berating me for being so stupid while at the same time weeping for my hurts. I knew she had not been one of my silent peepers; even without looking, I would have known if she was there. She hadn’t come. She didn’t love me anymore, and I couldn’t blame her.

Then Bruce snorted, interrupting my miserable train of thought. “You think so? She has a funny way of showing it if that’s the case. She almost trashed the lab trying to get past us to get to you. Bucky tried to reason with her, told her it was too dangerous to open that door until the thirty minutes elapsed, but she wouldn’t listen. I tried to hold her back when she would have come rushing straight down here and she went completely berserk! I’ve never seen her throw a paddy like that, it was scary! Wanda might have been able to calm her down, if she was here, but she wouldn’t listen to me or Maria. She’d have made it down here if Bucky hadn’t taken matters into his own hands.” He winced. “He shot her in the arm with a dart gun. She’s still sleeping it off.”

He stopped speaking and waited.

I realised my mouth was hanging open and closed it. Dimly, I felt that I should be reacting to this in any of a dozen ways – horror, anger, relief, incredulity… but the surface of my body seemed to have frozen over, a thin, fragile layer of ice separating me from the seething turmoil of emotion within.

After a minute, Bruce dared to speak again, tentatively probing for a response. “I guess we’re all kind of hoping you’re going to come back upstairs before she wakes up. She’s going to be pretty pissed; we don’t want to have to put her out again.”

I flinched, but shook my head dully. I wasn’t going back up there, no matter what he said. Not even for Melanie. Even in the unlikely event that she still wanted me, I couldn’t allow myself to want her. I had to keep her safe.

Bruce wasn’t giving up easily, however.

“Please,” he wheedled. “Please take these horrible chains off. Come back upstairs, where you belong. Whatever is happening to you, we’ll figure it out, Nat. Together. You don’t have to do this alone. Let us help you.”

I shook my head again.

He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, then. I didn’t want it to come to this, but you’re not leaving me much choice.”

He was fast to say he was so big. My body instinctively attempted to twist away from his sudden movement, but my condition had deteriorated too far. My fogged brain had barely sounded a warning before a sharp scratch pierced the skin of my arm. Looking down, I stared in shock at the tiny syringe in his huge hand. His thumb, depressing the plunger, shooting the drug into my system, felt like an ice pick, shattering the frozen layer that had covered me into a million pieces. Emotions surged to the surface, but I was too astonished to sort out any except one. 

Bruce winced as I met his eyes with a look of stunned betrayal. “I’m sorry,” he repeated wretchedly, catching me as I wobbled and slipped sideways. He touched my face tenderly. “Rest, Nat. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

I tried to say something furious in reply, but my tongue seemed fat and useless in my mouth. My lips felt numb, couldn’t move to form words. The room began to spin, and then everything went dark.

******

My dreams were terrible.

I knew they were dreams, somehow I _knew_ that, but it didn’t stop the horror.

I stood calf-deep in snow, feet away from a towering pyramid of bodies. The dead faces were all turned towards me, necks distended in horrible, unnatural directions, their eyes white and staring. Circling around behind me, cutting off any escape, a dozen log cabins burned. I could feel the heat where I stood, could see it shimmer in the air, melting the snow at their foundations. The water seeped towards me, dragging scarlet stains along with it. I tried to stagger away, though it meant coming closer to the grisly pile of flesh, but my legs were mired in the deep drifts. The water pooled relentlessly around me, the blood of innocents swirling in mocking patterns. Then abruptly, it froze, clamping my limbs to the ground, locking me in place.

A flicker of movement distracted me from my frantic attempts to free myself.

Atop the pyramid, a tiny figure was stirring.

My heart leapt into my throat, remembering the baby – could it be possible that the tiny infant was still alive? I fought to yank my feet clear of the ice and snow, but it was like I had been set in concrete. I couldn’t move. Desperate, I opened my mouth to shout for help, for someone to go look, to help the child, quickly, before it froze to death.

The shout died in my throat, replaced by a gurgle of horror as the baby sat up, slowly and deliberately. No new-born infant could move like that. Its head turned towards me. Its eyes were as blank as those of the adult corpses beneath it, and its face was full of hate. Its mouth opened.

 _Its your fault_ , it said, its voice alien and echoing. _Its your fault I’m dead._

I shook my head frantically, but I knew it was right. Of course it was right.

The body directly beneath the baby uncurled, twitching horribly. The dead woman reached for her infant, clasping it to her crimson-stained bosom. Her pupil-less eyes bored into me.

 _Your fault_ , she hissed. _You did this_.

One by one, the bodies jerked into animation, sliding down the sides of the pyramid to shamble towards me. From every mouth, the same accusation, until it surrounded me, inescapable.

_Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._

“I know,” I sobbed, lashing at the ice that bound me with a strength fuelled by terror. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” The ice began to crack under my frenzied blows, breaking off into crystal shards that tore into my hands, so that my own blood mingled with that of the slain.

 _You think sorry will make it better?_ came the hiss of a multitude of voices. I looked up wildly. More and more corpses were joining the circle that advanced on me, many more than the pyramid could have held. They were appearing from every direction, squeezing between buildings, erupting from beneath the snow, passing through flames that burned the flesh from their bodies, leaving it hanging in grisly ropes from their bones.

With a wrench that ripped half the skin from my ankles, I finally yanked my feet free. Turning, I staggered into a run, but there was nowhere to go. The burning cabins merged into a wall of flame. An inferno in front, and a noose of death tightening behind. Coughing soot from my lungs, I fought my way closer, searching desperately for a way through the fire. The heat made my head swim, sweat pouring down my face. The burning at least drowned out the sound of the undead mob behind me.

Although strangely, I felt like the fire itself formed words. Familiar voices swirled in the superheated air.

“…hate seeing her like this. Do you have to keep giving her that stuff?”

“I don’t have a choice, she’s burning through it so fast! It’s the only way to keep her unconscious.”

Another voice, a soothing tone. “She’s fine, it won’t do her any harm. But we can’t let her wake up yet, you saw what she was like, she won’t cooperate. She’s better off asleep for now, at least until we can do some more tests.”

“You’d better give her another shot, Bruce. Her brainwaves are spiking again. She’ll be awake in another minute.”

“Pass me the syringe…”

 _No, no, no, no!_ I tried to shout. I whirled in place, searching frantically for a way to reach them, to communicate, but there was nothing but fire and death on all sides. _Let me wake up! Please, let me wake up! Don’t trap me in this nightmare!_

The crimson sky above me turned black. I felt it hurtling downwards, like I was an ant about to be squashed by a giant boot. It snuffed out the fire; the mob was lost in the darkness. It pressed me into the frozen ground, covering me, smothering my nose and mouth, pinning me down under a weight so huge I should have been crushed in an instant. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel. A fly enveloped in sticky tree sap, preserved in amber over a million years, and yet still horrifyingly aware. A trapped, seething mass of panic and agony and despair.

I tried to keep calm, tried to separate myself from the dream, and sometimes I managed it. Sometimes I managed to remember that this wasn’t real, that I wasn’t trapped, or lost, or forgotten, I was simply drugged. My body was sleeping peacefully while my mind ran riot.

The ground suddenly seemed to give way beneath the weight pressing down from above. My mouth found air at last, and I sucked it in, releasing it immediately in a shrill scream as I fell through the blackness. _This isn’t real_ , I told myself desperately. _I’m not really falling, so there will be no landing._

I barely managed to complete that thought before the impact with unyielding rock shattered every bone in my body.

The pain was blinding, searing, intolerable. I felt the jagged blades of my bones punching through my flesh from the inside. I felt my skull crunch, and my brain mash like oatmeal, dribbling through the holes. I felt my heart burst, my lungs pop, my intestines slither out onto the stones.

_This isn’t real._

And yet it was. This was a memory, or would have been, if it was possible to remember your own death. My mind had not experienced what came after the fall, but my body had. This was exactly how it had been, sprawled upon the hard rock below a towering cliff under an alien sky. And just as before, I found myself inexplicably awake and aware. But unlike before, Melanie had not made me whole again.

I moved my hand. My vision was blurred, the angles all askew. Without thinking (how could I think, with half my brain smeared across the rock beneath my head?) I scooped my eyeball from where it dangled down my cheek and shoved it back into its socket. There was no pain now. I was beyond feeling. I twitched and lurched my way upright, first to my knees, then to my feet. My left foot pointed backwards, and my right leg was shorter than the other thanks to the shattered femur that thrust like a spear through my thigh. I couldn’t walk properly with so many parts disjoined or missing; I could only shuffle, dragging my broken body across the plain.

It didn’t occur to me to wonder where I was going, until the blackened skeletons of the burned cabins rose up around me. No longer burning, they smoked, greasy columns winding their way up into the dreary sky. The undead crowd was waiting, watching my approach with their white, sightless eyes. They parted to allow me through, then closed the gap behind me, enveloping me into the company of death.

 _Now you’re one of us,_ the soundless voice rippled through all of us. _You finally realise what you are. A monster. Just like us._

 _Yes,_ I thought. _I am a monster. I am death._

 _Yes._ The thought was almost a purr of satisfaction.

A sound intruded then. The resounding thump of a beating heart. The scent of blood pulsing through living veins made me salivate. As one, we turned towards the lush sound and scent of life.

Melanie stood beside the smoking ruins, her eyes wide and shockingly blue. Her lips moved, forming the same words over and over again.

I shuffled eagerly towards her, my hands reaching, the thick snow tugging at my stumbling feet.

 _Yes_ , a hundred whispers hissed like the wind that whipped her golden hair over her face. _Take her. Rip, tear, kill!_ They followed me, surrounded me, an army of rotting, misshapen flesh, hungering for her blood.

She made no move to run, though I could see the terror in her face. She was almost near enough to touch. I drooled, saliva dripping down my chin, the smell of her sweet, firm body too delicious to resist. It would be so easy, so delightful to slice open that pretty neck and feel the hot blood spurt over my face; to rip open her ribcage and pluck out her heart. I reached for her… and then her words came to my ears.

“No,” she sobbed. “No, Nat, no. I love you. Please. No, Nat, no. I love you. Please.” Over and over, like the words to a song.

I remembered music, remembered how she used to sing. My golden nightingale. My angel.

I shuddered to a halt.

 _Go on, go on,_ the others surged around me, furious. _Do it. You’re a monster._

_But… I love her…_

_That’s why you have to do it,_ they insisted. _That what monsters do. They kill those they love. It’s what you do. It’s what you’ve already done. Look._

I looked down.

I had not been struggling through snowdrifts. The ground was covered with human body parts. Hands, hearts, livers, intestines poked out between bones too broken to know which part of the skeleton they might have come from; globs of flesh that could have been anything lay piled beside still recognisable organs. My feet were lost under the surface of pooling blood. A severed head floated, inches from my leg, and as I stared in horror, it bobbed and turned over, red hair falling away from its face. Wanda’s face.

“No!” The sound blubbered between my rubbery lips, and I staggered back with a sickening squelch. As though released by my movement, more heads exploded to the surface all around me, expressions of horror and fear frozen forever on their faces. Maria. Bruce. Sam. Rhodes. Clint. Pepper.

“No!” I moaned.

 _Yes,_ they hissed. _Now her. Do it. Show her who you really are_.

I turned, unable to stop myself, back towards Melanie. My hand, fingers curled into claws, talons sprouting from my fingertips, moved to end her life, and I had no control over it, couldn’t stop it, no matter how I begged and pleaded…

I was a monster. This is what monsters do.

****

“NO!”

The scream tore from my throat as I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding in my temples. I shivered uncontrollably, feeling cold sweat drip down my forehead, making my eyes sting as the salty droplets ran into them.

I stared at my hands feverishly. They were normal. No hanging flesh, no pointed talons. Still gasping for breath, I ran my sweaty palms over my body. I was whole. No limbs pointed in the wrong direction; no daggers of bone punctured my skin. And yet the images remained. I clutched at my hair, tearing at my scalp as though I could claw the memory of the dream out of my head.

A flurry of movement made me jump, and I whipped my head around. My vision was still blurry, and for a moment the images in my head were stronger than reality, painting a vision of shambling corpses lurching around me, making me scramble backwards, becoming entangled in a thin sheet that was wound around my lower body.

It was the electronic beeping, frantic and loud in my ears, that pulled me out of the nightmare. At the same instant that I realised that the sound had no place in the desolate snowfield of my dream, I felt a tug at my hand. Turning it over, palm down, I found a drip attached securely to the vein in the back of my hand, feeding clear fluids into me. The beeping noise immediately made sense. Now that I understood, I could feel the patches sticking to my chest, securing the electrodes that snaked up to the monitor to my left. Familiar jagged green lines scrolled across the screen, dancing to the precise pattern of my racing heartbeat.

I was in the infirmary.

I blinked rapidly to clear my vision, becoming aware as I did so that my head ached terribly, and my mouth was dry as a desert and tasted vile. My vision swam into clearer focus, and I groaned as I realised I was surrounded on all sides by glass.

I wasn’t just in the infirmary. I was in the goldfish bowl. Right now the nickname wasn’t even remotely amusing.

The hairs raised on the back of my neck as I stared through the glass, and found many eyes staring back. Several medics eyed me nervously, and one of them spun and ran to the intercom on the wall, pressing the call button and speaking urgently into the microphone.

“Do you think that box will hold her?” I heard another mutter uneasily. I recognised the voice. Tobias, the man Viktoria had terrorised only… what, hours ago? And now the same man, who had so recently looked at me with trust and respect, was now staring at me the same way he had viewed her – like a venomous spider trapped under a glass dish. Contained, but deadly.

I clenched my fists to hide my trembling as the memory of what had passed returned. Their frightened stares were like knives biting into my flesh. Of course, none of my friends were here. No-one who cared about me was by my side, waiting anxiously for me to wake… because I had no friends now. No-one cared anymore.

I fought the urge to weep, refusing to break down before these people, who had been _my_ people, but never would be again. I had lost them. I had lost everything. My friends, the only family I had ever known; the job that was my only purpose in life; the one person who had taught me what it felt like to love and be loved…

The loss was devastating. I felt like I had been hollowed out, like my insides had been eviscerated, leaving nothing but a vast, aching hole. I was nothing. I was no-one. Just a monster. An evil thing that was endangering the lives of everyone here as long as I stayed.

There was only one path left to me now.

Curling my lip bitterly, I threw back the sheet covering my legs and rolled off the bed. The drip tugged at my hand as I put it out to steady myself, a little dizzy. Almost snarling, I yanked it out, then with one tug, ripped off the electrodes at my chest. The machine stuttered into silence. There was a squeak of dismay from one of the nervous medics, but before any of them could voice a protest, I seized the metal stand beside my bed, sending bags of fluids flopping to the floor, and smashed it into the reinforced glass doors, once, twice, three times, with all my force. The quarantine cube had been designed to confine a potentially unwilling inmate, and the inch-thick walls were more than sufficient to defeat an ordinary human.

But then, thanks to Goravitch, I was no ordinary human.

A spiders web of cracks splintered their way across the glass.

Tobias stood on the other side, astounded horror etched in every line of his face.

“No,” I told him, “this box won’t hold me.” With a savage kick, I blew the door to smithereens.

Tobias fell back with a yell.

“Look out, she’s loose!” someone else screamed.

“Run!”

The medics stampeded for the exit as though pursued by starving wolves.

I ignored them. I didn’t care that they were racing through the facility, raising the alarm that the monster was free. They were right to fear, though I had no intention of harming anyone if I could help it. Right now, every spark of rage had been smothered beneath the weight of grief and despair, and my simmering hatred was all reserved for myself. Right now, the monster didn’t seem to be stirring, but I couldn’t expect that to last. Sooner or later, it would take over again, and I needed to be far away before it did.

Instead of following the fleeing medics into the building, I made purposefully for the fire escape, kicking the door open and striding outside. It was night. Dark, overcast, no moonlight to speak of. Good. That made things easier.

Sneaking past the security teams rushing to sweep the compound was almost nostalgic. I had so many memories of infiltrating heavily fortified facilities like this. Passing unseen through this, my own territory, was child’s play, even with the whole place on full alert. I had trained the people searching for me after all. I knew exactly what pattern they would follow.

Gauging my moment carefully, I slid between searchlights and ducked into the concealing shadows of the quinjet. Seconds later, I was sliding into the pilot’s seat. I flicked switches quickly and then, clenching my jaw against the searing ache in my chest, I hit the button and fired the thrusters.

“Nat!” The comms suddenly flared to life as I lifted off. “Nat, I know you can hear me, for god’s sake, come back!” Bruce’s panicked face filled the monitor. “Nat, please, we’ll figure this out, come back!”

I savagely cut the communications. “See how _you_ like getting cut off,” I snarled at the screen. I flicked on the cloaking system and resolutely hauled on the stick, shooting up through the clouds.

Rising quickly to cruising altitude, the jet broke through the cloud layer, and I was abruptly bathed in the silver light of the moon. The jet sped smoothly in the limbo between the endless silver sea of cloud below, and the vast black dome of space above, scattered with the pinpricks of a million, million stars, tinged with pink to the east with the first glimmerings of dawn. Invisible, and totally alone.

Feeling numb, I robotically set the auto-pilot. I had no course in mind; for the moment I simply set it to maintain this heading and altitude. Mechanically, I left my seat and stepped into the back. Almost as though I was on auto-pilot myself, I rummaged numbly in a locker for the spare uniform to replace my crackling hospital gown.

That task accomplished, I stood and stared around, blinking back tears so that they instead stung the back of my throat. I had so many memories of being in this jet. It was almost an Avenger in its own right, it had been such an integral part of our lives. I had sat in that seat over there, almost catatonic, after Wanda had messed with my mind the first time we met her, and Clint had piloted us to his farm to hide from the public backlash Ultron’s nefarious schemes had caused. For two years, while on the run with Steve, this jet had almost been home. Less than a year ago, I had been defibrillated on that medical gurney after they had pulled me out of the Red Room. Here, Melanie and I had shared our first kiss…

Melanie.

I would never see her again.

I fell to my knees, doubling over like I had been punched in the stomach. More alone than I had ever been in my life, there was no-one to observe my breakdown. I felt the tears start coursing down my cheeks, and for once made no effort to stop them, letting the hot agony sear through my chest. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging myself tightly as though I could hold myself together. I felt like I was unravelling, coming apart at the seams…

“Come on, Romanoff,” I gasped, wheezing painfully. “This isn’t helping. Get it together. You need a plan…” I squeezed my eyes shut as panic swept over me. All my life, I had always had a strategy. It was one of my greatest strengths, the ability to analyse a situation, assess my options, and formulate a plan of action, all within a split second. Now, for the first time, I floundered. My thoughts whirled, trying to find options, and I was coming up blank.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. The realisation was terrifying. “Oh god, I don’t know what to do…”

“I have a suggestion,” a familiar voice said.

I jerked my head up, shock freezing my sobs in my throat.

There was a shimmer in the air. Melanie’s suit rippled like water as she became visible, lounging casually in one of the passenger seats. “You can turn this bird around, and come home,” she said softly.

I lurched to my feet. “What are you doing here?” I demanded hoarsely. My overtaxed brain felt like it was going to explode. Coming right on the heels of the realisation that I would never see her again, her sudden appearance was just too much. How could she be here? The jet was cloaked, there was no way to track me, and she could only transport to locations she knew. “How can you _possibly_ be here?”

She stood up to face me. “I know you, Nat,” she said softly. “As soon as I heard what happened…” Her jaw tightened in pain. “I knew when you woke up… your instinct is always to remove the threat. And since the threat is you… I knew you wouldn’t wait to talk to anyone. I knew you’d go for the quinjet. So I told the others to leave you alone, and when the tranquilisers were due to wear off, I came here to wait for you.” She spread her hands. “I figured confronting you at forty thousand feet was the only way I was going to get you to talk to me about this.”

I clenched my fists. “Go back.”

She crossed her arms. “No.”

“Mel,” I growled warningly. “Transport yourself back, or so help me I will _make_ you!”

“Oh don’t be so melodramatic,” she retorted. Her eyes were too bright. “You would never hurt me, and you know it.”

“I wouldn’t get a say in the matter,” I told her savagely. “This… _thing_ …. It takes over. Its mindless. Merciless. I would shred you into your component parts, and never know what I’d done… until I woke up.” I trembled, the memory of the dream terrifyingly vivid, remembering how I couldn’t stop myself... “No-one is safe from me. Not even you.”

“You’re wrong,” she corrected me gently, as though telling a stubborn child that one and one made two. “You’re not a threat to me.”

Frustration and shame boiled in my gut. “I’m a threat to everyone! I am death, Melanie! Wherever I go, death follows! It always has, from the moment I was born…” My lip curled in a snarl. “I killed my own mother. It was all there, in Madame B’s files. She died, just to bring me into the world. My own father gave me up, didn’t want anything to do with the _thing_ that killed her…” Tears stung my eyes. “I’m a monster. That’s all I’ve ever been.”

She blanched. “Oh Nat, I’m so sorry… but you’re still wrong.” She took a step forward. I stepped back, keeping the distance between us.

Her expression softened. “Nat, women die in childbirth sometimes. It’s terrible and tragic and unfair, but it happens. It’s nobody’s fault, and it certainly isn’t yours. You can’t know that your father blamed you, but if he did, he was wrong.” She took another small step closer. “You’re not a monster. You are not an incarnation of death. And I’m not going to let you hurt anyone. Especially not yourself.”

“You need to stay away from me!”

“No,” she said quietly. “I don’t.” She took another step forward. “I had to face the prospect of living without you once before, and I’m not prepared to go through that again. I love you too much. Wherever you go, I will follow. So if you were contemplating some drastic solution to take yourself out of the picture, you’ll have to take me with you.”

“You can’t be serious,” I objected, aghast. “Mel, I’m not who you think I am. You can’t love this. I’m _evil_.”

“No, you’re not.” She pursed her lips. “And even if you are, then I still don’t care, because if you are, so am I. Are you forgetting the hospital? Are you forgetting that I know exactly what it’s like for people to die horribly because I lost control?” Her eyes hardened as she took another step closer. “I told you about the nurse I strangled with the surgical tubing from my drip… but I never told you the rest. The doctor I crushed under a wall… the security guard who tried to smother me; I crushed his internal organs like I was squishing dough in my hand…”

I gaped at her, speechless.

She smiled bitterly. “See? If mindless killing makes a monster, then we’re both monsters together.” She moved within reach, and tentatively reached out to touch my face. “Nat, you chained yourself up in a basement to keep us safe. That isn’t the act of an evil person. That is the act of the selfless, compassionate, incredibly brave woman I fell in love with. _That_ is who you are. You’re a hero.”

“Heroes don’t tear people apart with their bare hands,” I retorted furiously.

She rolled her eyes. “And neither will you, because I won’t let you.” She waggled her fingers theatrically. “I told you, you’re not a threat to me. I have powers too, remember? You can freak out all you like, I’ll just hold you down until you’re done.” She cupped my cheek tenderly in her palm. “And when you wake up, I’ll be right there beside you.”

“You…” I swallowed. “You can’t mean that. You haven’t seen it… you don’t know…”

“Oh I know.” She met my eyes grimly. “No amount of locks on your desk drawer can keep me out, Nat.”

I felt whatever blood was left in my face drain rapidly.

She looked at me with sorrow and anger evenly mixed. “I see now why you were so worked up after you read that file. It’s quite the eye-opener.”

I shuddered and doubled over again. The thought that she had seen it, the memory of the evidence it contained, hit my stomach like a blow, making me retch involuntarily. There was nothing in my stomach to bring up, however, so I was reduced to a few dry heaves.

Melanie rubbed my back. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “It’s okay…”

I shot her a furious glance.

She pulled a face. “All right, fine, it’s not okay,” she admitted. “It’s a long, long way from okay. But none of this is your fault, Nat. You aren’t to blame for what you did to those people; Goravitch was the one who forced your abilities to manifest that way. You reacted to defend yourself from the atrocities he was practicing on you.”

“And now?” I asked bitterly. “What’s my excuse now?”

She sighed. “This started right after you read that file, after you remembered everything he did to you… so of course it’s happening the same as it did then. But that doesn’t mean it always has to be that way. We don’t know enough yet about what your power actually _is_ , and how it works. I’m not convinced its anything like as simple as Goravitch thought it was. I think there’s a lot going on that we’re not seeing. You’re reacting completely unconsciously, purely on instinct, and your instincts are hardwired to defend yourself from torture.”

“And that makes it okay?” I snarled, incensed. “I was tortured, so its fine that my _superpower_ is to turn into an uncontrollable demon that rips people’s throats out?” I used the word superpower with the utmost sarcasm. It wasn’t a power but a curse, in my opinion.

Melanie shook her head. “We don’t _know_ that’s what your power is,” she repeated stubbornly. “That _appears_ to be what is happening, I’ll grant you, but it’s impossible to be sure at this point, not when its so bound up with all the horrible stuff from your past. If we can separate the phenomenon from that underlying trauma, we may discover that something very different is going on, and once we understand it, we should be able to help you reach the point where you can manifest your abilities consciously instead of unconsciously.”

I shook my head. My head was in no fit state to decipher her science babble. “Talk English, Mel! ‘Separate it from the underlying trauma’… what the hell does that even mean?”

She winced, but endeavoured to explain. “Your mind is reacting to extreme negative emotion as though you’re being tortured. A lot of the symptoms you’ve been experiencing – the anxiety attacks, the blinding headaches, the flashbacks – they match with severe PTSD, which would be totally unremarkable after what you went through, if it weren’t also triggering this latent power of yours. We need to stop the defensive reaction, and you can only do that by tackling the root cause. You need to deal with what happened to you all those years ago.”

I threw up my hands in frustration. “Deal with it? I _am_ dealing with it. I was tortured. It was terrible. The end.”

She made an exasperated noise. “That’s not dealing with it, Nat, that’s bottling it up and trying to ignore the fact it happened, and that’s only going to make you worse. There’s only one way to fully come to terms with what was done to you. You’re going to have to talk about it.”

“Talk. About. It,” I repeated flatly. My stomach lurched again at the very thought. “Well, that will be a fun conversation,” I said with biting sarcasm. “I’m sure you’re all queueing up to hear all the nitty gritty details. Who’s the lucky volunteer who gets to sit and reminisce with me?”

Melanie winced again. “I don’t think any of _us_ are really qualified to help you with that,” she said uncomfortably.

I stared at her, then her meaning abruptly became clear. “You want me to see a _shrink_?” I demanded shrilly, appalled. I thrust her away, starting to pace in agitation. “Have you lost your mind? Even if there was a doctor out there we could trust with the knowledge that I’m alive, there’s the slight problem that if he provokes me, I’ll end up shredding him! Any shrink who volunteers for that needs some bleeding therapy themselves!” My entire being revolted at her suggestion. The idea of the Black Widow needing therapy was patently absurd… more than ridiculous, it was _humiliating_ …

“Not necessarily,” Melanie responded. She frowned at me. “Calm down. We’ve already thought of all that, and fortunately, the solution is simple. Shuri has an expert in Wakanda who is more than qualified to help you, and they have the technology to ensure you can’t harm him while he does so. You’ve already said, you don’t need to hide your identity there.”

She paused a moment, eying me to see how I was taking this.

I ground my teeth and continued to pace, avoiding her gaze. Annoyingly, I couldn’t fault her solution. I had seen Wakandan technology in action, and I had no doubt at all that the city that had defensive barriers capable of keeping out an army of savage aliens would be more than capable of keeping me from dicing its citizens into sushi. If there was any place on Earth I would be safe, it was there. But still, the thought of meeting with Shuri’s expert rankled.

“You don’t have to stay there all the time,” Melanie offered, after a minute’s watching me stride back and forth. “I can transport to Wakanda. It’s a pretty memorable place. I can zip you there and back in a blink.”

I stopped then, and shot her a look of contempt. “And where am I going to stay the rest of the time? You wouldn’t let me stay in the basement, and the goldfish bowl couldn’t hold me for two minutes!”

“We only put you in the goldfish bowl so we could fully monitor you while you were out,” she retorted, exasperated. “It wasn’t meant to hold you, which you would have known if you’d stopped to actually talk to anybody before smashing your way out! And of course we’re not going to let you chain yourself up in the bloody basement again! There’s no need! You’ll live with me, in our room, like always. As long as you’re with me, or Wanda, you can’t hurt anyone. I promise, we won’t let you.”

I stared at her. The thought of being able to re-join her in our cosy quarters filled me with an ache that was nearly a pain. I so badly wished I could, that we could go back to the way we had been only a few weeks ago, before all of this had happened, when it was just her and me and our perfect, unsullied love… but those days were gone forever. “I can’t,” I whispered. “I daren’t. What if I hurt you? What if it happens when you’re sleeping? I could kill you!”

Melanie rolled her eyes affectionately. “Dearest, if you’re having a nightmare strong enough to trigger the reaction, trust me I’ll be awake! You’re all over the bloody bed when you’re dreaming!”

I pursed my lips mulishly, and shook my head. “I’m still not going back. I won’t do it, Mel, I won’t put everyone in danger. Besides,” despair and self-loathing soured my tone, “you’re the only one who wants me there. Everyone else is scared stiff of me now. They hate me.”

“No-one hates you,” she corrected firmly. “The team are all worried sick about you, actually. And as for the staff, well, you gave them a scare, sure, but give them some credit. Everyone in that building is devoted to you, Nat. Maria has briefed them on your condition, and the reasons for it. They’re all outraged at what you were put through, and seriously impressed at what you were prepared to do to keep them safe.”

“My condition,” I repeated unhappily. My brow furrowed as I attempted to re-align my chaotic thoughts with her logic. “You really think… you really think this is some kind of PTSD?”

She sighed. “There’s no physical explanation for what is happening to you. We checked, Nat, we kept you out for a couple of days and ran every test we could think of, and found nothing. I checked your body chemistry down to the last atom, twice, and I couldn’t find any change either. Physically, you are no different to how you were before all this began. Which means it must be psychological. We’ve been through the file you read…” she swallowed hard, “and quite honestly, I’m amazed you could even function at all once you recovered those memories! Never mind PTSD, any lesser person would have been catatonic, having all that trauma thrust into their head all at once! It explains why you did what you did then, and why it’s happening again now – it was self-defence. Your subconscious was trying to protect you from the horrors, first by using your powers to attack back, and then by blocking the entire experience from your mind. That’s why it has never happened again, until now, until you forced your way past the barriers in your head by reading that file. Your mind can’t protect you by making you forget any longer, so it has gone back on the offensive, but it can’t differentiate between actual physical pain and the sort of acute emotional pain you’ve been experiencing lately. The symptoms of PTSD are distressing to say the least, and your mind is reacting to that, trying to protect you from it, but at the same time making it worse.”

I gnawed my lip. “I guess… I guess that makes sense. All the more reason I can’t go back. Even if you’re right, even if by some miracle they still want me… I can’t serve with PTSD. I have to step down as commander, its standard procedure. Minimum three months sick leave, a course of treatment,” my stomach twisted at that, and I had to fight to keep my voice steady, “and no return to duty until cleared by a review board.”

“Bollocks to that,” Melanie returned calmly, making me start and stare at her, wide-eyed with surprise. “There’s nothing standard about this situation, and besides, the Avengers _are_ your review board. And we have met, and decided that standard procedure can jolly well be damned. Making you sit on the bench for three months isn’t going to help us track down Hydra, and knowing the bastard who did this to you is still out there hurting people isn’t going to help you get better. So… provided you agree to receive treatment, and allow us to put certain contingency plans in place to ensure everyone’s safety, we don’t see any reason why you can’t continue exactly as you were. Especially since no-one with any authority to object even knows you’re in command in the first place.”

My heart did a little skip. Could it be possible? Could she really be suggesting that I could continue as if nothing were wrong? Then I frowned. “Contingency plans,” I repeated grimly. I narrowed my eyes at her. “What does that involve exactly? What are you going to do, load everyone up with tranquillisers?”

She looked uncomfortable, and I groaned. “I’m not saying I like it, but for the moment, we don’t have a better alternative to offer. We know tranquillisers work on you, I told you we kept you out for a couple of days while we ran tests, although we had to keep giving you a ridiculously high dose to _keep_ you out, your body burned through it so fast. But if it will keep everyone safe, and more to the point, help everyone _feel_ safe around you… don’t look at me like that, they want you back, of course they do, but you can’t blame them for being a bit nervous! But if they know this is just a temporary situation, that you’re getting treatment, and that they have a way to protect themselves if necessary… Look at it this way,” she pointed out reasonably as I released a bitter snort. “At least you’ll just wake up with a bit of a headache instead of mangled wrists from those chains!”

“Great,” I spat sarcastically. “Just great.” I began pacing again. We were way beyond humiliation now. The idea of suffering through therapy was bad enough; for the whole facility to _know_ about it was utterly mortifying, but this! For me to go back, to face everyone’s fear and suspicion; to walk through that building knowing everyone in it was watching me like a hawk, ready to whip out the dart gun if I so much as twitched… I wasn’t sure I could do it. Being chained to a wall in a dank basement was almost preferable.

Melanie reached out and stopped me with a gentle pressure on my arms. She pulled me back into a seat beside her and sandwiched both my hands between hers. “It’s just temporary, love,” she murmured comfortingly. “You’ll get through this, you’ll get it under control, I know you will.”

I bit my lip, supressing the small bubble of hope that swelled in my chest. Hope was dangerous. But I still couldn’t help asking the question.

“Can’t you just… heal me? I don’t want this, Mel. Even if you’re right, even if this turns out to be something else, something less horrible… I don’t want it. I don’t want things to change. Can’t you… remove it, or block it, or something?”

She pulled me gently into her arms. “No, my love, I’m sorry, but I can’t. This isn’t a physical thing I can prompt your body to repair. I have no power over the mind.”

“Wanda…?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, so firmly I felt it like a jolt. “She and I are totally agreed on that. We are not messing with your mind, it’s way too dangerous. It could make things a lot worse. Besides, even if we were willing to take the risk, there’s nothing she can do. She can stimulate memories, but she can’t remove them, and she can’t recreate the blocks you made.” I winced at the unspoken addendum; that those blocks would still be in place if I had followed her advice and left that file alone. She gave me a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry my love. There’s no way around this. You have to face your past, you have to take control, or your past will control you.”

“And what if I can’t?” I whispered. Only to her could I admit this most secret fear; that I had finally met an enemy I wasn’t strong enough to defeat - myself.

“You can,” she said simply. “You are the strongest, bravest person I have ever known. You can do this.” She kissed me lightly on the lips, then smiled. “Now come on, turn this plane around, and lets go home. Our bed has been very cold and empty the last couple of nights, and I’m looking forward to having you back in it with me. And as consolation for your ordeal, I plan on spending a great deal of energy making you feel better about it all…”


	9. 9.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie has a surprise for Natasha.

It took several more hours of mixed argument and reassurance before Melanie finally convinced me to turn the jet around. By the time the facility came back into view through the cockpit windows, the sun had made its journey across the sky and was setting once more.

The compound was surprisingly serene as I landed the jet back in its customary place. The only humans in sight were a couple of grizzled grounds-keepers, raking the red-orange blanket of fallen leaves away from the landing pad. They put up their tools and strolled away as the blast from the jet’s downward thrusters completed the job for them.

Melanie squeezed my hand reassuringly as I hesitated at the top of the ramp.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to worry, no-one is mad at you. They’ll just be glad you came back.”

I pressed my lips tightly together. I had my doubts about that, but I made no comment. I started forward as though heading to my own execution, holding tight to her hand. Her fingers twined through mine were like a lifeline, the only reason I could keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The Avengers were waiting at the bottom of the ramp. I flushed, looking quickly at the floor. There was quite a crowd, the usual headcount swelled by the presence of Shuri and Bucky. Even Pepper and Clint were here.

“Mel?” Maria called cautiously.

Melanie squeezed my hand again before answering. “She’s herself, and in control. She just freaked out a little. I’ve explained our plan, and she accepts our terms.”

Trembling despite my best efforts, I raised my eyes. “Guys, I… I’m so sorry…”

“Oh don’t be daft,” Rhodes responded gruffly. “You’ve been through hell the last few weeks. I’m not saying you chose the best way of handling it, keeping everything bottled up like that, but I can’t say any of us would have done any better.”

Wanda stepped forward and embraced me gently. “You really had us worried there, big sister,” she said kindly. “You really need to start trusting us, you know. We’re your family. We would never abandon you when you need us.”

Overcome, I couldn’t reply, but I clasped her tightly for a long moment. Clint put his arms around both of us, screening me from the rest as I furiously blinked back tears.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Dumb-ass,” Clint muttered back affectionately.

Sam punched me in the shoulder as the two of them released me. “Good to have you back, boss.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Men.” She hugged me in her turn. “Are you all right?” she asked me anxiously.

I smiled faintly. “It’s a work in progress.”

Bruce smiled at me. “Don’t give up hope, Nat, we’re all here for you. We’ll get you through this.”

I nodded dumbly, swallowing a lump in my throat. Their love and support were overwhelming, filling up the void inside me with a rapidity that robbed me of breath. Almost giddy with heartfelt relief, I turned a half-smile on Maria.

My second stood to attention with a crooked smile of her own. “Awaiting orders, Commander.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Releasing Melanie’s hand, which I had grabbed again as soon as Pepper had let go of me, I could almost feel the weight of my responsibilities settling back on my shoulders. Rather than oppressive, it felt nice, like slipping into an old, comfortable set of clothes.

“What’s our status?” I asked, determined to at least act as though things were back to normal, and catch up on what I had missed.

Maria grimaced. “Unchanged, I’m sorry to say.” She hesitated. “We informed the authorities about… the Alaska situation. The armed forces are on high alert, but they haven’t had any more luck locating Goravitch than we have. The victims are to be buried with honours, and the survivor has been taken to a high security hospital to recover.”

I tensed at her recital, braced for the rage to overwhelm me once more, but nothing happened. All I felt at the reminder was profound sadness. I released a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding, and winced slightly as I heard everyone else do the same.

No-one made any comment, for which I was grateful. Maria continued crisply with her report. “Viktoria has been cleared, no signs of any tampering with her mind, but she’s refusing to talk to any of us. She says her bargain was with you and no-one else. She’s been demanding to see you for the last two days, but we told her you had to leave suddenly to see to an emergency.”

“Where have you put her?” I asked, frowning. I hoped they hadn’t locked her up, after all my reassurances that we wouldn’t do that…

Maria rolled her eyes. “We gave her the empty suite next to Wanda’s. She’s confined to the Residence Wing, but she’s being treated as a guest, not a prisoner.” She shrugged. “I figured we were better off putting up with her in our space than having her roaming around the facility, picking up secrets like shells on the beach.”

I nodded, relieved. “Good thinking, but how are you making sure she stays put?”

Shuri spoke up. “Security bracelet,” she said casually. “Voice activated, so she can’t remove it, and I linked it directly to Friday, so we’re tracking her every move. If she so much as tries to open a window, we can completely immobilise her. It also keeps her from being able to access the internet on any devices lying around. As soon as she tries, it just shuts the device down.” She grinned. “She’s finding that quite frustrating.”

I suppressed a smile. “I bet.” I sighed, fighting exhaustion. “I guess I should go talk to her…”

“It can wait, Nat,” Rhodes said gruffly. “You look like you’re about to drop. Why don’t you let Mel spirit you back to your room? Take tonight to sort your head out. We can start over tomorrow.”

“Good idea,” Melanie said brightly.

I rolled my eyes, casting her a half-annoyed, half-amused glance. I hesitated. There was still so much we didn’t know about this new incarnation of Hydra, and about its leader, and what she and Goravitch were planning. Viktoria was the key to filling in the blanks, and I was loath to put off questioning her. We had wasted so much time already… but at the same time, I had to admit Rhodes was right. Between the emotional rollercoaster I had experienced and the after-effects of the drugs they had dosed me with the last few days, I wasn’t in great shape. My brain felt like it had been pushed through a mangle. One more night wouldn’t make so much difference, and I would be far better equipped to deal with whatever came next if I was rested. My nerves were still teetering on a razor edge right now, and I would hate to give the facility staff another scare so soon. It was probably a good idea to collect myself before facing them.

“All right,” I acquiesced reluctantly. “But keep me in the loop, okay? If there are any developments…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Maria assured me.

I nodded. “Well, all right then. I guess I’ll see you all at breakfast.” I smiled wryly. “When I’ve tidied up my head a bit.”

“Good luck with that,” Shuri said sympathetically. She nodded to Melanie. “The device we discussed is in your room.”

“Thanks,” she said briefly. “I’ll see to it.”

I frowned. “See to what?” I began, then staggered slightly as she placed a hand on my shoulder and we abruptly moved from the landing pad to our room. I shook my head as the gold flash faded, a little dizzy. “I wish you’d warn me before you do that,” I complained.

She smiled and gave me a little push, so that I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“What are you seeing to?” I repeated, my eyes following her warily as she picked up something from the table by the door.

She looked exasperated by my suspicion. “It’s nothing to worry about, it’s just a health monitor.” She clipped the device around my wrist like a watch. “See? It measures your heart rate, blood sugar, perspiration levels, adrenaline levels – a whole range of things. If we’re going to find out more about your powers, it will help if we can see exactly what is happening to your body when you use them, and how that compares to normal.”

I rolled my eyes. Great. I was back to being a lab rat. “Well, I doubt you’ll have to wait long,” I muttered sourly. “I’m sure Hydra will oblige with another atrocity sometime soon…”

Her face softened. She crouched down before me, reaching up to touch my face. “It wasn’t your fault, Nat,” she murmured.

“Wasn’t it?” I said bitterly. “Why do you think they uncloaked the jet, why they left one witness alive? Because he wanted me to see what he had done, to know it was him.” I stared at the floor. “Those people died because of me. Goravitch needed lab rats, that’s what the prisoners were for, but he didn’t need to kill the rest. He did it purely to hurt me, because he knew I would feel responsible, and he enjoys making me suffer.”

“Then don’t give him the satisfaction,” she retorted sharply. “You are _not_ responsible for what a psychopath chooses to do to innocent people, Nat. Don’t torture yourself, that’s what he wants. Put the blame where it belongs. _He_ is the reason those villagers are dead, and we will make him pay.”

I frowned, a little worried by her tone. “That doesn’t sound like you,” I said warily.

She smiled grimly, her eyes glittering with menace. “You think you have a monopoly on rage? If I’d had that bastard in my sights after I saw that footage, I’d have ripped out his organs one by one…”

“Okay, you’re scaring me now,” I said hurriedly. Seeing her like this was profoundly disturbing. The havoc _her_ powers could wreak if she used them in anger made my newfound party-trick pale to insignificance. “Mel! Come back from the dark side.” I forced a weak laugh. “I need my angel right now!”

She relaxed, much to my relief, and smiled at me. “Well, I need to shed the Angel right now, if that’s okay with you,” she retorted sweetly, stripping off her gauntlets and gloves. She rested her foot on the edge of the bed beside me, expectantly, and I smiled and obediently helped her pull off her boots. I watched her peel off her suit, newly appreciative of her beauty, a lump in my throat as I thought about how close I had come to losing her. That she was still here, and still wanted me, was a miracle greater than anything she had previously granted.

I wriggled back into our nest of pillows as she tossed her suit unceremoniously over the back of a chair, and pulled her into my arms as soon as she crawled onto the bed beside me.

“Did you really trash the lab the other day?” I asked, remembering what Bruce had told me in the basement.

She grimaced. “I may have caused a bit of a scene,” she admitted ruefully. “But I _had_ to go to you, and they wouldn’t let me!” She rubbed her upper arm crossly. “Bucky shot me with a tranq dart. I’ll get him back, though, you see if I don’t! Just wait until he takes a turn in the training room next, I’ll kick his ass!”

I had to chuckle. The thought of Melanie and Bucky going toe to toe in the training room was entertaining.

“Did you really think I didn’t _want_ to come to you?” she asked, looking upset.

I averted my face and shrugged.

She shook her head. “For someone so brilliant, you are astonishingly stupid sometimes,” she said crossly.

I forced a strained smile. “Excuse me? How is it stupid to assume you would feel sickened to find out you’d been sleeping with an evil monster that loves to rip people into tiny pieces? You said yourself that you’d despise someone who enjoys killing. This creature I become _delights_ in slaughter. How could that not change the way you looked at me?”

She snorted, a frustrated sound. “Oh I wish you could just see yourself clearly! This _creature_ , as you call it, is not _you_ , Nat. I know _you_ still hate the very thought of hurting anyone, why else would you chain yourself up? You’re not evil, sweetheart, you’re just _ill_! And you _will_ get better.” She kissed me and stroked her fingers down my arm, and the protest I had been about to utter died on my lips. “And speaking of getting better,” she murmured, snuggling close. “Am I right in thinking your enthusiasm for my company lately was because it helped ward off the symptoms?”

I flushed, embarrassed.

She smiled. Her fingers stroked up to my shoulder, traced my collar bone, drifted casually down from the base of my throat to the hollow of my cleavage. “Is that still the case?” Her fingertips, light as a feather, followed the curve of my breast.

I swallowed, aching. “I certainly feel… very far from rage… when you touch me like that.”

Her smile widened. “Well then,” she murmured, kissing me again. “I will have to make it my business to carry on touching you like this as often as possible. For therapeutic purposes, of course.”

“Like you need an excuse,” I responded sardonically, my eyes half closed as her hand slid under my clothing. It was true, her appetite for me never seemed to diminish, no matter how often we indulged. She had been surprised by how demanding I had been over the last week or so, but not particularly dismayed.

She pulled a rueful face. “I still find it hard to believe that I can,” she confessed. “You can’t even imagine how agonising it was, watching you all those years, aching for you, and not to be able to touch you. Or anything else for that matter. And for you to be right there, and _still_ not be able to touch you, all those months on the island… sometimes I thought I would go mad it hurt so much.” She shivered. “Sometimes I still feel like this is all a dream, and one day I’m going to wake up and you’re going to be gone…”

I kissed her, took her hand and placed her palm deliberately over my breast. “I’m not going anywhere,” I murmured. “You can touch me all you want. I never want you to stop.”

She paused meditatively. “Never?”

“Never ever,” I vowed, smiling.

A flicker of something I couldn’t read passed over her face. She hesitated, and then whispered, “Prove it.”

I frowned. “What?”

She bit her lip nervously. “Marry me.”

My mouth fell open. “W-What?” I stammered, not sure I believed my ears.

Abruptly she rolled off the bed. While I watched in bewilderment, she rummaged in the wardrobe. My eyes nearly fell out of my head as she produced a small cube.

“I’ve been… waiting for the right time to do this,” she mumbled, scarlet in the face. I sat up on the edge of the bed, dumfounded, as she lowered herself gracefully to one knee and opened the box, offering it to me.

A simple, elegant ring, set with a single diamond, sparkled in the lamplight.

Melanie’s intense blue eyes smouldered. “Natasha Romanoff, I love you more than life itself,” she said softly. “I never, ever want to leave your side. So will you marry me, so I never have to?”

I suddenly saw again in my mind’s eye my vision of us in white satin, kissing while a cheering crowd threw confetti.

“Yes,” I whispered. I realised I was crying and swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand, mortified. I smiled shakily and slid to the floor next to her. “Yes,” I blurted. “Yes, of course I will!”

Her face lit up with joy. I found myself laughing and crying at the same time as I hugged her tightly, so overcome with happiness that it blotted everything else out. She squeezed me so hard I couldn’t breathe. Then she removed the ring from its box and took my left hand.

“May I?” she murmured.

I nodded, unable to speak. Her smile was exultant as she slipped the ring onto my third finger. We both gazed at it. I wriggled my fingers, mesmerised by the sparkle.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered. My brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Where did you get it? _When_ did you get it?”

She looked slightly sheepish. “I might have sneaked off from one of those design consultations, back when they were working on my suit…”

I gave a tut of disapproval, but couldn’t bring myself to scold. I was too happy. I tilted my hand from side to side, delighted with the way the diamond flashed in the light. “Did you get yourself a ring too?” I asked suddenly, looking around as though I thought another jewellery box might materialise.

She shook her head.

“Why not?” I demanded. I raised an eyebrow. “You surely weren’t worried I might say no?”

She shrugged, embarrassed.

I hugged her again. “For someone so brilliant, you can be very stupid sometimes,” I murmured affectionately in her ear. Considering everything that I had put her through, I found it ridiculous that she had been the one worried that I would say no to _her_. It should have been the other way around. I couldn’t believe she still wanted to be with me at all, never mind tie herself to me forever, but as a demonstration of her commitment to stand by me, no matter what, it was certainly effective. I felt suddenly light as a feather, as though I might float away. The events of the last few days no longer seemed like the end of the world. I would get through this, _we_ would get through this. No matter what I had to do to exorcise my demons, no matter what Hydra had in store for us, we would face it all, and nothing could stop us. And then we would be together forever, free to find our own little slice of heaven, just like Clint and his farm…

I sighed happily in her arms.

She laughed softly into my hair. “Do you think maybe we could take this back into bed?” she said teasingly. “It’s a lot more comfortable than the floor…”

I pouted, unwilling to let go of her, even for the moment it would take to get up. She laughed again and floated us both into the air, moving us sideways over the bed and then letting us drop onto the covers.

I grinned. “You’re right, it is much more comfortable.” I snuggled up against her, tilting my face expectantly. Her soft kisses mirrored my contentment.

I closed my eyes blissfully, unable to believe how euphoric I felt. It seemed like eons ago that I had hit rock bottom, chained to a wall in a dank basement, more frightened and miserable than I had ever been in my life. Now the pendulum had swung to the other extreme. I had never been this happy in my entire existence. 

“I love you,” she murmured. She grinned. “My fiancé.”

I lifted my left hand before my face to admire my ring once more. “I love you too.” I kissed her. “We’ll go look for you a ring as soon as we can,” I promised.

She grimaced regretfully. “I’m not sure that should be a priority right now.”

“What? Oh,” I said, belatedly remembering that we were in the middle of a crisis. Not the best time to make a shopping trip. “Yeah. I guess we should probably save the world first, huh.”

“Probably,” she agreed drily. “An evil organisation achieving world domination might put a _bit_ of a dampener on the wedding…”

“Wedding…” I repeated. I swallowed as the enormity of it suddenly sank in. I was getting married. I was going to have a wedding. I was going to be a bride, in a dress, exchanging vows in front of a load of people…

Melanie laughed at the panic that must have shown on my face. “I thought I was the one that hated being the centre of attention,” she teased. She stroked my hair. “Relax, we don’t have to make a big deal of it. If you want, we can go to Vegas and get married in jeans and shirts.” She actually sounded a little hopeful.

I had to laugh, my consternation fleeing before amusement. “Oh no, you don’t,” I responded. “If we’re doing it, we’re doing it properly.” I grinned. “This is my one opportunity to see you in a dress.”

She pulled a face. “I’ll look a right freak…”

“You’ll look incredible,” I countered. “Even more beautiful than you are already…”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but only if you wear one too.”

“Of course I will,” I replied, puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She chuckled. “I don’t think they do them in black. Plus, no pockets. Where will you put your gun?” She made a face of mock horror.

I gave her a gentle slap. “Very funny.” Almost absent-mindedly I added, “No-one carries a gun in their pocket anyway, far too conspicuous. I’ve gone armed in a dress plenty of times, you just have to choose the right dress, make sure there are no suspicious tugs at the fabric…”

Melanie made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “I’m not marrying you with a gun in your knickers!”

“Where would you prefer me to put it?” I asked innocently.

“Nowhere!” she retorted. She shook her head ruefully. “On our wedding night, just the once, it would be nice to be able to undress you without worrying about concealed weaponry.”

I blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean, just for once…?”

She chuckled again. “Nat, you’ve been training me for months to recognise covert arms, do you really think I don’t know about the little surprises you have hidden everywhere?”

“Not everywhere,” I protested.

She raised an eyebrow. “Knife in your boot, wire in your belt buckle, shock device embedded in your top button.” She rolled her eyes. “Not to mention the gun in your top drawer, and the one underneath the table by the door…”

A rueful smile of pride crept over my face, that she had learned the lessons I had taught her so well. “I love you,” I said, kissing her fiercely.

She laughed. “I know.”

“No guns in the wedding dress,” I conceded. I ran my hands over her, and she pressed against me, her lips hot on mine as our passions kindled in effortless rapport.

“How do you feel about sharpened hair-ornaments…?”


	10. 10.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha suffers a devastating blow as the identity of the mysterious Hydra leader is revealed.

The woman froze, one foot across the threshold.

“Hello Viktoria,” I said calmly. I turned and raised an eyebrow. “Coffee?” I asked pleasantly, gesturing inquiringly with the full pot I had just taken from the machine.

She frowned warily, but continued her entrance into the kitchen and nodded.

“You’re back,” she observed. She cocked her head. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Your former employers have been wreaking havoc as usual,” I replied evasively, pouring coffee into two mugs. “Kettle’s just boiled,” I added to Melanie, who entered at that moment with Wanda behind her.

“Thanks,” she replied gratefully. “I need tea, and I need it now!”

“Make me one, will you?” Wanda requested. She opened the fridge, pursing her lips as she surveyed the contents. “I feel like eggs, anyone else want eggs?”

“If you’re making them,” I responded. I winked at Viktoria as I placed one of the mugs of coffee in front of her. “I never turn down other people’s cooking.”

Melanie snorted as she dropped teabags into the teapot. “That’s because you can’t cook.” She grinned at the woman who sat down slowly at the breakfast bar, completely bemused by our banter. “She’s been known to ruin boiling water, in fact. We used to hate it when it was her night to make dinner.”

Viktoria blinked. I hid my amusement at the indignant expression that crossed her face at the news that the commander of the Avengers Initiative had actually been expected to _cook_. It reinforced what I had told her before, that I neither expected nor received any special privileges.

“Used to?” she asked, seemingly curious in spite of herself.

The girls laughed. “It’s the best night of the week now,” Wanda said with a grin. “She orders takeout. Last time we had Thai food, it was great.”

Viktoria stared into her coffee. “You people are crazy,” she muttered. “You have an army of people in this building, why don’t you get them to cook and clean and all that?”

I shrugged. “We do have cleaners. We don’t exactly have much time for housework. But we try to keep the number of employees in this section to a minimum. We need space to be regular people sometimes, or we’d go mad. So we take turns to cook for ourselves, when we have time, and if we don’t, we use the staff cafeteria like everyone else.”

Viktoria looked even more confused. “So why am I in here with you?”

I shrugged. “It was this or lock you in a cell, and I already promised you we wouldn’t do that.” I sipped my coffee, surveying her over the rim of the cup. “Of course, if you prefer the cell…”

“No,” Viktoria said hurriedly. “I just didn’t expect…” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re just letting me roam loose around your private quarters.”

I chuckled. “Why not? There are no secrets in here for you to find, and you’re no danger to any of us personally. Everyone here is a match for you.” Which actually wasn’t strictly true, but she didn’t need to know that.

She frowned. “No plans or tech, maybe, but plenty of personal information,” she countered. “Viper would pay handsomely for that kind of insider intel…”

Melanie snorted. “Why? All she has to do is read teen magazines,” she said sourly.

“And somehow I doubt you’re going to go running back to her,” I observed. “I can’t imagine she’ll be happy you let us remove that little device she had stashed in your guts.”

Viktoria grimaced. “True,” she admitted. She scowled and raised her wrist, where a silvery bracelet glinted. “And I’m not going anywhere, am I? Not when you have me tagged like a stray dog.”

“You can hardly blame us for taking precautions,” I pointed out.

“Who wants tomatoes?” Melanie interrupted.

“Yes please,” I responded. “You want me to do some toast?”

She smiled. “Think you can manage not to burn it?”

“I’m not that bad!”

“What aren’t you that bad at?” Sam asked, ambling in with a yawn. “Any coffee going?”

“Cooking,” I answered his question. “And yes, in the pot.”

He looked alarmed. “You’re not in charge of breakfast are you?”

I threw my hands up in despair. “No! Just the toast. Get yourself some coffee and shut up. You’ve just walked in and you’re annoying me already.”

“Can’t teach those kinds of skills,” he drawled easily, grabbing a mug from a shelf.

“Do I smell eggs?” Rhodes asked eagerly, entering the kitchen with Maria and Clint.

“They’ll be ready in a minute,” Wanda confirmed, smiling. “Are the others coming down?”

“I think they already ate,” Maria replied, selecting a choice of fruit from the bowl on the counter and preparing to make her morning smoothie. “Bruce and Shuri are already in the lab. Bucky just got back from a run, he’ll probably be here once he’s cleaned up.”

“More for me,” Sam said, grinning. He leaned towards the stove, sniffing appreciatively. “I’ll have Bruce’s share.”

“You’re going to be too fat for those wings to lift if you’re not careful,” Wanda teased, giving his stomach a rap with the spoon.

Sam shrugged good-naturedly. “I need a little blubber to keep me warm, the way Nat keeps sending me to all these frozen wastelands,” he retorted. “I’m sick of freezing my ass off.”

“Well, I’m sure Nat and Melanie will make sure their wedding is somewhere warmer,” Maria remarked. She shot me a sidelong smile as the others’ jaws dropped.

I rolled my eyes. “Well done, Maria.” I frowned at the others. “You lot, on the other hand, need a refresher in surveillance and observation.” I held up my hand, my ring sparkling on my third finger. “Seriously, none of you noticed?”

“Only you would use something like that as a test,” Rhodes grumbled, but he smiled.

Sam whooped. “Congratulations!” He grinned. “Pepper is going to be so mad she went home and missed this.”

Clint smiled at Melanie. “Laura said you’d propose soon. I swear she has some kind of second sight about these things!”

I laughed. “Well she could have warned _me_! I had no clue she was even thinking about it. You could have knocked me over with a feather when she pulled out a ring box and went down on one knee!”

“You took your time getting around to it,” Wanda commented slyly to her sister, lifting the pan of eggs off the stove.

I snapped my head around. “You knew she was going to propose?” I demanded.

Wanda laughed. “I covered for her while she sneaked out to buy the ring. She wouldn’t let me see it though. She said you had to be the first. That was like, two months ago. I was starting to think she’d stuck it in a drawer and forgotten about it.”

“It was in the wardrobe, actually,” Melanie said demurely. “And I was waiting for the right time.” She took the pan of eggs so that Wanda could hug me and peer excitedly at my new ornament.

“It’s gorgeous,” she gave her verdict happily.

“Where are you going?” I asked sharply, noticing Viktoria backing away towards the door.

The woman flushed. “You’re celebrating… I thought you’d probably prefer it if I was elsewhere…” she muttered.

I shook my head. “Park your ass back on a seat. We don’t have time for celebrations just now. You need to fulfil your side of our bargain.” There was a ping as the toaster popped. “Besides,” I added. “Breakfast is ready. And if you don’t eat your eggs, Sam will, and Wanda’s right, he’s getting chunky.”

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed indignantly.

Looking frankly bewildered, Viktoria slowly sat back down.

Maria chuckled. “I don’t think our guest knows quite to make of us.” She winked. “The KGB don’t conduct interrogations over breakfast, I take it.”

Viktoria snorted. “The KGB conduct interrogations over a branding iron, if you’re lucky,” she retorted.

“And Hydra?” Rhodes asked grimly.

Viktoria shuddered. “You don’t want to know.”

“Actually we do,” I pointed out. “That’s kind of the point of all this.” I grimaced. “Although, if it’s all the same to you, we’ll leave the gory details until after we’ve eaten.” I reached casually for the salt. I was determined to act as though the past few days had never happened and everything was normal. The others were doing a creditable job of concealing the small tranquilliser dart-guns Bruce had distributed; I had spotted Sam’s and Rhodey’s, but couldn’t tell where Maria and Clint had stashed theirs. Melanie and Wanda were the only ones not carrying them; as Melanie had pointed out, I wasn’t a threat to them. I wondered if the others would still shoot me if Mel or Wanda had hold of me, or if they would just dangle me in mid-air and leave me to rave… Abruptly realising I had been quiet a moment too long, and they were all looking at me, I dragged my unruly thoughts back to the present, annoyed with myself. If I was going to continue doing my job, despite my illness (as Melanie insisted on calling it) I couldn’t allow the knowledge of their contingency plans to keep distracting me like this. As for my imminent meeting with a Wakandan psychologist, I preferred not to consider that at all. I resolutely turned back to Viktoria.

“How about you start with how the KGB became Hydra. That’s new since my day.”

“Its new full stop,” Viktoria said bitterly. She glanced down at the plate of scrambled eggs and tomatoes on toast that Wanda set in front of her, looking wary.

“I haven’t poisoned it,” Wanda said crossly.

Viktoria rolled her eyes and picked up her fork.

“Hydra,” I prompted.

She sighed. “I can’t tell you exactly what happened. I wasn’t here.”

“You were one of the vanished,” Sam guessed. “Like me and Maria and Wanda.”

Viktoria looked around at them, surprised. “You vanished too?” At their wordless nods, she looked thoughtful. “Then you know what it was like. One minute I’m waiting to cross a street in Istanbul, following a target. Next thing I know, I’m standing there and the whole damn place is different. Different people, different cars, different store across the street, my target is nowhere to be seen, hell, it’s even a completely different time of day!” She shivered. “I had no idea what had happened. It was like I’d been frozen in place and the world carried on without me… And I wasn’t the only one. There were people all over the place, standing there just like I was, staring around all confused like they’d just woken up… and other people were screaming and yelling, as though we’d all just appeared out of thin air…”

“Yeah, it was pretty freaky,” Sam agreed sympathetically. He inclined his head. “Must have been worse for you, too. At least we weren’t alone, and we got answers pretty quickly…”

“Lucky you,” Viktoria muttered darkly, playing with her eggs. “It was total chaos where I was. Half the people who returned had no homes to go to; they were either derelict or taken over by someone else. The apartment I’d been renting had some Chinese couple in residence. I didn’t stay to find out what had happened to my belongings; there were a few things I’d left behind that would have raised a few eyebrows when they cleared it out. Luckily I’d set up an emergency drop in a bus station locker with cash, ID and a few weapons. It was still there, thankfully, so I wasn’t too badly off. But I had no idea how to contact my superiors, or if they were even still around. I could only assume that sooner or later someone would come looking for me.”

“And did they?” Rhodes asked.

She nodded. “About a week later, a certain symbol appeared amongst the graffiti on the wall of my old apartment building. I left my mark beside it, confirming I was alive, and the next morning some numbers were scrawled underneath. Coordinates for a rendezvous, up by the Hagia Sofia. I had to wait a few hours, but eventually a man turned up. He took me to another apartment, on the other side of town, and told me to wait. A couple of days later, he turned up again with a passport and flight tickets, and sent me back to Moscow.” She scowled. “If I’d known what was waiting, I would have stayed in Istanbul.”

“Viper?” I guessed quietly.

She nodded, her expression twisting with hatred. “I was met at the airport by Skuler. He picked up another agent too, Mikhail, coming in on another flight from London. I knew Mikhail from the Red Room, he graduated the year before I did. I wasn’t all that keen on him, he was too full of himself for my liking, but I was glad to see him, it was a relief not to be the only one in that situation. There were another two women waiting in the room we eventually got escorted into; I didn’t know either of them, but we were all in the same boat. None of us had a clue what was going on. One of them asked if we were here to see the Brethren, and Skuler just laughed and said if we wanted to see them, the cemetery was that way.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow at me, but I simply shrugged, unsurprised to hear the Brethren were dead. Their constant, frequently bloody rivalries made it extremely unlikely that any of them would co-operate, and certainly none of them would have willingly given up their power. It was logical that Viper would have gotten rid of the ones who survived Thanos, but some must have vanished to afford her the opportunity. I supressed a smile; their sudden return must have given Viper quite a shock, though no doubt she had managed to deal with them also.

Viktoria continued as though she had read my mind. “I asked him if any had vanished, like us. If any had returned. He smirked even more and said we had missed them. Six had returned and met here a few days ago, but unfortunately their celebratory champagne had… disagreed with them.”

Wanda choked on a mouthful of tea, then pushed her mug away, faintly green.

“Viper really seems to have a thing for poison,” Maria commented sourly, tipping a chopped banana into the blender.

Viktoria snorted a mocking laugh. “Oh, you have no idea. You haven’t heard the half of it yet.”

I stirred my eggs pensively. “Six returned, you said. There were ten of them all together… if only four survived Thanos, I can see now how Viper managed to take over. That’s quite an opening at the top. It can’t have been so difficult to rid herself of those few. And of course, she couldn’t risk the rest of them joining forces against her once they were back. She had to deal with them before they figured out they were no longer top of the tree.”

Viktoria nodded, an odd, pained expression crossing her face. I cocked my head, intrigued. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw grief…

“Why would you care if she killed the Brethren?” I asked softly. “They were all no better than Viper herself. Merciless tyrants who cared nothing for anyone except themselves.”

She looked away. “Not all of them.”

My brows shot up. That she would even know the identity of any of them surprised me, but to have known one well enough to _mourn_ them… I frowned, feeling uneasy. Something had changed since my time, and it bothered me.

Viktoria set her chin, and I recognised that she would say no more on the subject just now. I supressed the urge to press the point. It wasn’t really relevant, after all. We were concerned with what happened after the Brethren had been killed, not before.

“So what happened then?” I asked instead.

Viktoria took a sip of coffee before answering, as though to calm herself. “We were kept waiting a while, then Skuler came back and took us to a room. A big fancy study, all wood panelling, big bay windows, and a huge fireplace, the kind almost big enough to stand inside. The Hydra logo was everywhere, I recognised it from my studies at the Red Room. I remember wondering what it was doing there, why there were no Russian emblems in sight, but then I was distracted, seeing the two people waiting for us. Goravitch was waiting, stood behind a big oak desk, but I barely glanced at him. I saw _her_.” Her voice grew soft with hatred. “She was standing off to one side, by the fireplace. She was staring into the fire like she wasn’t even paying attention, the light of the flames dancing over her gold mask, but somehow I knew she was watching us. It was strange, even though Goravitch was the one we came before, lining up in front of his desk, I never doubted for a second that she was the power in the room. None of us could take our eyes off her for more than a few seconds. Her name suits her. She was covered from neck to toe in dark green leather that gleamed like a snake’s scales. She wore a cloak with a hood that covered her hair, and it reminded me of a cobra’s hood, the way it flares right before it’s about to strike. She stood there, so still, and yet there was this _presence_ about her…” She shivered. “I can’t even describe it properly. You’ll just have to take my word for it; there’s not much in this world that scares me, but seeing her standing there, I was suddenly more frightened than I’ve ever been in my life. It was like coming face to face with a real viper, something that could kill me so fast I wouldn’t even see it happen, and there was nothing I could do, except stay very, very still, and hope to live through the next few minutes.”

I glanced around at the group, raising an eyebrow. They remained silent, but their expressions mirrored my concern. Viktoria was pale as a ghost, and her voice trembled a little. She had faced the ordeal in the hotel room without so much as a flinch, yet simply describing this woman visibly unnerved her. I had no doubt that Viper was every bit as terrifying as she described, and that was extremely worrying. How could someone so malevolent have surfaced without us hearing about it?

“She’s that scary?” Rhodes whistled.

Viktoria nodded fervently. “Even Goravitch is scared of her. I could tell. He did most of the talking, and he was as smug as he always is, but I noticed he was careful never to turn his back on her. His eyes flicked to her every few seconds, as well, as though he was constantly checking he was saying what she wanted him to say.”

“Why didn’t she just say it herself?” Sam wondered.

Viktoria shivered again. “She doesn’t talk much. When she does… you know something terrible is about to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Melanie asked.

Viktoria sucked in a fortifying breath and continued with her story. “We found out a couple of minutes later. Goravitch told us what had happened, about Thanos and the Decimation. He told us things had changed in the five years we were gone. The world had changed. We were not alone in the universe, and if we were not to become subjugated or annihilated, the Earth must be united under a single leader, one who could carve order from the chaos left by others’ meddling, and make us strong. Lady Viper was that leader, he said, and her vision would shape the world. All servants of the KGB were now sworn to allegiance with Hydra, and we were no longer bound to the whims of self-serving politicians in Moscow.” She rolled her eyes. “He went on like that for a while. I was reeling from the shock of it all, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say anything. I didn’t think anyone would be that crazy, but I had reckoned without Mikhail. The stupid oaf never did learn when to keep quiet. How he ever managed to graduate is a total mystery to me, I wouldn’t have made him an agent for all the tea in China, but I suppose Madame must have thought he had his uses…” She shook her head with a sour look. “Anyway, the idiot opened his fat mouth and demanded to know if this was some kind of joke. Was Goravitch seriously expecting us to go to war with the entire world on the say-so of some crazy chick in a fancy gold mask?” She laughed shakily. “He actually said that! With her standing right there! How could he not _see_? I could feel the other two women tense up next to me, and I knew they sensed it too. It wasn’t just me. Viper _radiated_ danger, but Mikhail was totally oblivious. All he could see was a slender woman in a weird outfit, and an old man talking crap.” She grimaced. “Fool.”

We all exchanged grim glances. None of us were even making a pretence at eating anymore. Maria’s hands were still, her knife embedded in the flesh of a ripe apple.

“I take it his comments didn’t go down too well,” Clint muttered.

Viktoria’s grimace became painful. “You could say that. Goravitch went really quiet. He didn’t answer Mikhail, he just stared at him. He seemed tense, on edge all of a sudden, and I didn’t like the look in his eyes at all. It was too eager, like he was expecting something to happen, something that scared him and excited him all at the same time. And then Viper moved away from the fire.” She shivered. “She came up to Mikhail and… stroked his face. Sensually, almost. Her nails were long and sharp and painted brilliant green.” She closed her eyes, sickened by the memory. “Mikhail looked… scornful. Smug even. He actually thought she was trying to seduce him. He stood there, smirking, while she ran her nail along his jawline, so gently that for a second I wondered if I was wrong. Maybe she _was_ seducing him. Maybe she even took his stupidity for bravery, and admired him for it. But then she spoke, and I knew he was doomed. She said, really quietly, “So you don’t share my vision, Mikhail? That’s a shame.” And then, quick as a striking snake, she slashed the point of her nail across his face. It left a tiny cut across his cheekbone, such a pitiful little scratch that for a moment I couldn’t see why she had even bothered. What was a tiny little cut like that going to do?” Her voice lowered so we had to learn forward to hear. “And then Mikhail started to scream.”

Viktoria’s shivers increased to the point where she had to place her mug carefully back on the table or else drop it. The kitchen had gone very, very still.

“He fell to his knees, clutching his face… in seconds he was writhing on the floor in agony, his whole body convulsing… I’ve seen some horrible things in my time, but that was the worst. I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. None of us could. We just stood there, frozen, while he screamed and screamed for what seemed like forever.

Eventually, he went quiet. Viper turned back to the fire, Goravitch beckoned, and Skuler pushed me out of the way to get past me. His hands were sweaty, like even he was scared to come that close to her. He dragged the body away, and then Goravitch turned to us and asked if there were any more questions...”

Her voice faltered.

“Jesus,” whispered Clint, when she seemed unable to go on. “She can kill with a touch?”

“With a scratch,” Melanie corrected, frowning thoughtfully. “She broke the skin… you were right, Maria, she really _does_ have a thing for poison! It had to be on her nails, it’s the only explanation, although how she could have something that deadly on her nails and not succumb to it herself…”

“Imagine if she picked her nose,” Sam quipped with a brave attempt at humour.

Nobody laughed.

“Could she be another new enhanced?” I asked Melanie’s opinion. They seemed to be popping up all over the place these days.

Melanie pursed her lips. “Possible, although if you’re thinking she might be producing poison from within herself, I think that’s extremely unlikely. Nothing we know of their research suggests Hydra had any means of creating such an extreme mutation. However, we _do_ know that one of the effects of Goravitch’s serum was an increased ability to process toxins. That’s why you don’t get drunk easily, why you never get sick, why you burn through a drug as fast as we can get it into you. I think the most likely explanation is that she’s one of his. She must have survived his experiments, like you, and somehow that particular effect was intensified to such an extent that she is immune to poison altogether, which would explain why she likes to use it so much.”

I drummed my fingers on the table. Melanie’s theory made sense… and yet no sense at all. If this woman was one of Goravitch’s lab rats, why was she the leader, and not him? If he had put her through the same hell as me, why on earth would she even let him live, let alone take such a favoured position in her new order? Something didn’t add up.

“Get Bruce and Shuri down here,” I said finally. “I think they’d better hear this.” Feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, I stood up to pour more coffee. “What happened then?” I asked Viktoria, refilling her mug as well.

Viktoria sipped gratefully, wrapping her hands around the mug as though she too needed to warm herself.

“Goravitch asked us all a few questions. Mostly about missions we had been on; gave us a few scenarios and asked us what we would do. Almost like a job interview, like they were sizing us up, assessing whether we would fit in with Viper’s precious vision. It was like a nightmare. I didn’t want to fit in with her plans, I didn’t want anything to do with her idea of a new world order. I was determined to bolt the first chance I had and get as far from her as I possibly could. I decided would go to the Russian government and warn them, and if they wouldn’t listen, I would go to the British, the French, the Americans even, _anyone_ who could put a stop to her… but first I had to live long enough to get out of that room, and I knew if so much as a flicker of an eyelid betrayed what I was thinking, I would die screaming in agony, like Mikhail.”

“You must have been convincing,” Rhodes observed. “She didn’t kill you.”

Viktoria glowered into her mug. “No,” she said bitterly. “She didn’t kill me. Sometimes, I wished she _had_ killed me then. But she just looked at Goravitch and inclined her head at me. He snapped an order, and Skuler and another of his gorillas grabbed me and dragged me out of the room.” She shook her head. “I should have fought, but I was scared they’d just take me back to her. I remember thinking I had to wait, wait for my chance, then make a break for it… but I never got the chance. They marched me to an operating theatre and strapped me down on the table. And then Goravitch turned up again, this time all in scrubs. He was a lot cockier now Viper wasn’t in the room. He showed me the kill device, explained in great detail how it worked, and exactly what he was going to do with it… and I realised I hadn’t convinced them at all. They knew everything I had been thinking, but for some reason they wanted me alive. He told me I belonged to Viper now, and if I displeased her in any way, if I so much as looked at her in a way she didn’t like, I would die. Even if I were on the other side of the world, she would always be watching, and if I tried anything, I would die. And then he made me watch while he slit me open and put the kill switch inside me.” A sheen of sweat shone on her forehead, her face twisting in remembered agony. No wonder she had been so calm during the operation to remove the thing, I thought. I knew without her saying that Goravitch would not have been quick, nor would he have even attempted to relieve her pain. He would have revelled in it.

“Sick bastard,” Rhodes muttered in disgust.

“Sorry we’re late,” Bruce interrupted at this point, lumbering into the kitchen. Shuri and Bucky filed in behind him.

“What did we miss?” Shuri asked, her bright smile fading at the tense atmosphere.

“We’ve established that Hydra don’t conduct interrogations over coffee and eggs,” Maria said grimly. As though their entrance had awakened her from a spell, she finished slicing her apple and mashed the button on the blender with unnecessary force. “And that the new head of Hydra is a terrifying witch woman with poisoned fingernails.”

“Seriously?” Shuri’s face lit up with something like awe. “Poisoned _nails_? That’s incredible…”

“I hope you mean incredibly disturbing,” I responded sourly.

She waved aside my disapproval. “Well, yes, obviously, but poison in her fingernails? I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“More than one kind of poison, too,” Viktoria added in a low voice.

I looked back at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

She winced. “I’ve seen her use that trick a few times. They didn’t all die the same. One of them died in seconds. He didn’t even have time to scream.” She pulled a face. “I guess sometimes she’s not in the mood for lengthy death throws.” She looked down. “And she scratched me, once. So not all of them are lethal…”

“She scratched _you_?” Sam blurted, wide eyed. “Why?”

Viktoria shook her head fervently and didn’t answer. Her eyes were haunted.

I sighed. “Viktoria, I know this is difficult, but we need to know everything you can tell us about her.” I sipped my coffee, studying the woman intently. “I take it you’ve been in close contact with her.”

Viktoria shivered violently. “Very,” she whispered. She seemed to give herself a mental shake, then cast a strange look at me. “It’s ironic, you know. You and Viper… you’re so different. Yet so similar.”

My eyes narrowed. “What?”

She shrugged. “You’re a lot like her, in some ways.”

I slammed my mug down on the table, splashing coffee all over my forgotten eggs. “I am _nothing_ like her!” I was suddenly on my feet, blood pounding in my temples. “How can you say that? How dare you compare me to that poisonous bitch -”

“Nat,” Melanie murmured softly, warningly.

Her hand on my shoulder calmed me. Abruptly ashamed, I regained control with an effort, and sat back down.

Viktoria watched me warily.

“Just tell us what happened,” I ordered quietly. I picked up my mug again. “And less of the comparisons, if you don’t mind.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed at least four hands relax from concealed dart guns. I sighed inwardly, but made no comment, gesturing a request for Wanda to pass me a cloth to mop up the mess I had made.

Viktoria watched me for a moment, then at my irritated glare, reluctantly began speaking again. “I told you how I ended up stuck on Goravitch’s submarine after you destroyed the Red Room. We stayed submerged, no contact with anyone, for just over a month, until he healed. Then we headed for Viper’s headquarters.”

I sat forward eagerly, dropping the cloth. “You know where her base is?”

She grimaced. “Not exactly. I think it must be underwater. It looked a lot like the submarine. Mainly metal, seriously robust. Sounded like the sub too. That sort of low hum that never stops…”

“An underwater base?” Bruce exclaimed in disbelief.

“I think I preferred the frozen wasteland,” Sam grumbled.

“But you’ve no idea where?” I demanded.

She shook her head. “I know it took us a few days to reach it, but as I had no idea where we started from, that doesn’t really help. I wasn’t allowed near any navigation equipment. I think there must be _some_ kind of structure on the surface. The sub came up into a dock, right in the middle of the most enormous hanger. There were a ton of different vehicles in there, but I also saw two smallish jets and a helicopter. They would never have been able to fit those on the sub; there must have been a way to get them to the surface. I noticed they were parked on a huge platform; I think it must have been some kind of elevator, although I never saw it in action.”

“Sounds like they’ve got some serious tech,” Rhodes observed grimly. “How did you get out, then?”

“Same way I came in, in the submarine.” She paused, thinking. “The journey lasted just over sixteen hours, then they rowed me to shore not far outside of Murmansk.”

I grinned triumphantly. “Well that narrows down the search area at least. We can work with that.” I cast a glance at Maria, who nodded, draining her smoothie.

“On it,” she said, dumping her glass in the sink and striding away to start the hunt.

“What else can you tell us about the base?” I asked, turning back to Viktoria.

She shrugged. “Not a lot. I wasn’t there long before I was sent to infiltrate Stark Corp. I only saw a small part of it, but I can draw you a map of the bits I saw if you want. Like I said, it reminded me a lot of the sub, but about fifty times bigger.”

Bruce shook his head in grudging admiration. “They’re ambitious, I have to give them that. Clever, too. To build something like that, and no-one know about it…”

“Well we know Goravitch isn’t lacking intelligence, whatever else he’s deficient in,” I said darkly. “Although I can’t see him designing an underwater base, if I’m honest. Like Mel said before, he’s a biologist, not an engineer. So Viper must have other big brains working for her, not just him.”

“Unless _she’s_ the brains,” Shuri suggested with a slight shrug.

“Could be,” I agreed, frustrated that we still knew so little. I looked back to Viktoria. “Tell us more about this woman. You said you’d been in close contact with her. What happened?”

Viktoria looked down, her knuckles whitening around her mug. “The first night I was at the base, Viper called me to her personal quarters…” she whispered unwillingly.

“What for?” Sam asked blankly.

Viktoria cast him a contemptuous look.

His jaw dropped. “Oh.”

She glanced at me, then allowed her gaze to slide over Melanie’s hand, laid protectively on my forearm. “I told you that you remind me of her,” she said softly.

“You’re telling us that the head of Hydra is a big fat les -” Sam spluttered to a halt as both Melanie and I shot him twin glares. “That she likes girls?” he finished lamely.

“She didn’t call me to her quarters for tea and biscuits,” Viktoria muttered, flushing.

I said nothing. I felt like the bottom had just dropped out of my stomach. Melanie and Wanda both went very still. I felt Melanie’s fingers twitch against my arm, and I knew I was not alone in my disquiet.

“Hang on,” Rhodes broke the silence, shifting uncomfortably. “If you’ve been that… close… to her, surely you can tell us what she looks like!”

Viktoria scowled, and shook her head. “She still had the mask on.”

“Seriously?” Sam blurted, seemingly unable to help himself. “Even when she…?”

The look on her face silenced him.

“It wasn’t exactly romantic,” she snarled. She glared around, flushing with embarrassment and anger. “What are you thinking, that I got to see her face, kiss her lips, be wrapped in her embrace in silk sheets…?” She snorted scornfully. “You’re not getting it. Haven’t I told you what kind of person she is?”

“She… forced you?” Wanda muttered, looking horrified.

Viktoria snorted again. “I wish it were that simple. Skuler and his gang, they like to use force. Viper? She’s worse.” She averted her eyes, pale and trembling. “You have no idea, I can’t even explain. She’s twisted. I could have dealt with being forced, I could even have understood her enjoying pain, like Goravitch. But she turned everything inside out.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t tell you what she did, trust me you don’t want to know. But… it didn’t just involve pain. There was pleasure too, just as intense, until the two were so mixed up I couldn’t tell the difference anymore. I didn’t know whether I was begging her to stop… or to never stop. By the end, I was begging to be allowed to get down on my knees and please her…”

No-one said anything, but their faces all looked slightly green. I wasn’t sure if my face would have even that much colour left in it. My knuckles were white, clenched tightly around my mug.

After a moment, Viktoria started speaking again, as though needing to fill the acutely uncomfortable silence.

“Afterwards, she chained me back to the wall and started asking me about your attack on the Red Room, demanding every detail.” She managed a slight smirk. “She was livid with Goravitch for losing that facility. He knew she would be, of course. That’s the other reason we had to hide out on his sub for a month. He was weak while he was injured. He didn’t dare face her until he was stronger. I knew he’d already met with her as soon as we arrived, so I couldn’t figure out why she wanted me to tell her the same story again…” she paused, glancing at me. “Until I realised he hadn’t told her everything.”

“He didn’t tell her about me,” I said quietly. Of course he hadn’t. He had planned to keep me for himself. I remembered the triumphant gleam in his eyes as he had taunted me.

_This time no-one will take you away before I am finished…_

Viktoria shivered and gulped some more coffee, despite the fact it must have been cold by now. “No. And when I told her how he had found you in Scotland, how he had laid in wait for you to come rescue your friend… Her reaction was so strange. She rocked back like I’d kicked her in the face. She demanded to know if I was sure it was you, if I was _sure_ you were alive… I’d never seen you myself, of course, but _everyone_ knows what you look like. I must admit I was sceptical when we were told who we were waiting for, until you took out two entire teams of enforcers in two minutes flat. I’d been ordered to stay out of sight, but I saw the whole thing… no-one but you could have done it. I told Viper I was sure. She turned her back on me and went really still for a while, except I could see her shaking. I saw blood drip on the floor; she was clenching her fists so tightly those nails of hers must have been slicing her palms to ribbons. She was quiet so long I almost thought she’d forgotten about me, but then she suddenly told me to carry on, although she still didn’t turn around. So I told her what happened.” She gulped. “And when I told her what he had let his men do… what he had _ordered_ them to do… she went completely berserk. She grabbed this expensive-looking vase off a table and hurled it against the wall, smashed it to smithereens. Then she picked up the table and threw that too…”

The others were all looking at me now, most of them in bewilderment. I stared at the congealed eggs on my plate and said nothing.

“After a bit she calmed down,” Viktoria continued. “I could tell she was still raging, but she stopped smashing things. She summoned Goravitch, and when he saw me there, still chained to the wall, saw the mess she had made, I saw the panic in his eyes. He still tried to act cocky; he smirked in that sick way of his and asked if she was enjoying the gift he had brought her…” She gulped. “That was when she scratched me.” She fingered her jawline. “Here. I don’t know what was on her nails that time, some kind of narcotic I think, because everything after that is a jumble. I’m not sure why she did it… unless she was so worked up she had forgotten I was there until he mentioned it, and then didn’t want a witness for what came next. I thought I was dead, but there was no pain... everything just went really hazy, like a weird dream. I remember her grabbing him by the throat, and the vibrations when she slammed him into the wall right next to me. I remember thinking how crazy strong she must be, because his feet didn’t touch the ground. I remember Goravitch babbling, all high and squeaky, gasping and spluttering between words, like her grip was so tight he could barely speak. I remember he was begging… I remember screaming.” She gulped again, as though trying not to vomit. “I can still hear his screams.”

“She killed him?” Sam blurted, wide eyed. “He’s dead?”

Viktoria snorted. “I wish. But no, he’s still alive, although I’m pretty sure he was wishing for death for a while there.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Eventually, the screams stopped. But I can’t remember much more… I was totally out of it. I just remember her tone, like ice, threatening… no wait, I remember she told him to stay away from you,” she interrupted herself, looking back at me, her brow furrowed with the strain of recall. “She said… she said you were _hers_ –“

“Enough!” I snapped.

A ringing silence fell as everyone looked at me, shocked both by the story and by my tone. A few hands slid unconsciously to the dart guns again.

I ignored them all. I felt nauseated. I knew who Viper was, who she _had_ to be, but I clung desperately to the hope that there might be some other explanation. There was, however, one way to know for sure.

“Did you see her?” I asked softly in Russian. The others exchanged perturbed looks, disturbed by my sudden change of language. Even for those who couldn’t understand what I said, there was no disguising the strain in my voice. I barely registered their consternation, my entire attention focussed on the woman before me.

Viktoria looked confused, but she answered in the same tongue. “I told you, she never took off -”

“Not her face,” I interrupted coldly. “Her body.”

Hesitantly, as though she wasn’t sure what answer I wanted, and more than a little alarmed by the expression on my face, Viktoria nodded.

“Do you remember…” I swallowed and forced myself to continue. “Did she have a tattoo? Very small, a sun rising between two hills, on her left hip.”

I saw the recognition in her eyes, saw them fill with questions, even before she nodded. Wanda’s swift intake of breath was unnecessary confirmation.

I let my head sink into my hands. My body felt hot, then cold, and I started to shake.

Melanie tentatively touched my hand. “It’s her, isn’t it?” she murmured. The anguished sympathy in her soft voice only made the pain worse.

The shaking in my limbs increased. I squeezed my eyes tight shut in agony, feeling a barely-healed wound in my soul tear wide open, a yawning gulf that no bridge could span. Because part of me was so _happy_ , so relieved at this proof that Tanya was alive. My most immediate reaction was an overpowering need to see her, to explain and beg her forgiveness, to hold her in my arms and heal the unrelenting hurt I had caused her… even as the rest of me shrank away in horror, tearing me brutally in the opposite direction. I let out an involuntary whimper of dismay. How could this have happened? How could the quiet, brilliant, secretly sensitive teenager I had known, mere weeks ago by my reckoning, suddenly have become a terrifying masked fiend who poisoned with a touch, who tortured people for pleasure, who killed innocent villagers and made obscene art with their bodies? I choked, bile stinging the back of my throat, seeing again that macabre sculpture defiling a destroyed Alaskan village… and suddenly I knew it hadn’t been Goravitch there that day. It hadn’t been Goravitch who had left one witness alive to ensure I got the message; who had wanted me to suffer…

“Nat?”

Several voices echoed around the kitchen. I heard their concern dimly through the pounding in my ears, but had no attention to spare for it. The threat of Hydra… the lives that had been lost… everything Cho and Viktoria and goodness knows who else had suffered and continued to suffer… It was all my fault. Fierce hatred boiled up from my gut, filling my soul with rage and self-loathing as I suddenly understood what I had done. The monitor on my wrist began to beep warningly as my heart rate increased, and the now-familiar fire began to burn in my chest. The shaking in my limbs intensified.

“Uh oh,” Bruce exclaimed. “It’s happening again!”

I sensed the flurry of movement as Bucky, Sam, Clint and Rhodes all had dart guns in their hands in a trice, but they didn’t fire, not yet.

“Nat?” Rhodes’ voice was unhappy, but expectant.

I fumbled for the device I had talked Melanie into preparing for me that morning. She had understood immediately when I had requested a slight amendment to our agreement. I had proven I could control the reaction long enough to make myself safe, and I vastly preferred to do the deed myself than to be taken out by a dart gun like some rabid animal. If I had to be tranquillised, it would be on my own terms. Obviously, I had to agree to the others still carrying the guns, just in case the rage came over me too suddenly for me to take action, but I had requested that they use them only if I was clearly incapacitated. She had slipped out for a quick discussion with the others, and they had agreed to my request with, I suspected, no little relief. I knew none of them particularly relished the idea of having to shoot me, even for the greater good. They appreciated my desire to keep as much dignity as possible.

My shaking fingers closed around the modified epi-pen Melanie had given me, even as I fell off my stool, doubling over in agony. My head felt about to explode from the pressure.

“What’s happening?” I heard Viktoria shriek.

“Shut up,” Bucky snapped. “Nat, hurry, you’re losing it. Do it, or we’ll have to!”

The rage surged. Voices mocked me in my head. I could almost feel the undead crowding around. _Your fault, your fault!_ they gloated _. All of this could have been avoided if you hadn’t used the time machine. You were a fool. Now you’re a monster… and so is she!_

The boiling mass of rage and hatred suddenly found a target, and I jerked my head up, my features stretching into a snarl. “No,” I heard myself grate through my teeth. “Not yet.”

“You’ve got three seconds, Nat,” he warned, raising his weapon. “One… two…”

As his lips formed the word ‘three’ and his finger curled around the trigger, I exploded into action. The dart buried itself in the plaster wall beside the door as I hurled myself through it.

A split second later, chaos erupted behind me.

“Shit!”

“Nat, come back!”

“Nat, what are you _doing_?”

I dodged through the lounge, throwing a chair behind me to stall them. Melanie gave a shocked shriek as she was knocked backwards into Wanda, and the two of them went down in a tangle, momentarily blocking the doorway. I winced, but nonetheless took the opportunity to reach the exit. Wrenching open the secure door to the rest of the building, I slammed it behind me and shot up the keypad lock on the wall before turning and sprinting down the corridor. With the combined talents of everyone in that room, it would take them only seconds to get past that door, but that was all I needed. The rage burned hotter, and I used it to fuel my speed, letting the hatred lock on to my target. I knew where I needed to be when it engulphed me.

People shrieked and scattered from my path, and I ignored them, too intent on reaching my goal to even feel remorse for giving them another scare. Most of them were so shocked they forgot to even fumble for their own dart guns; the few who did were far too slow. A few darts pinged ineffectually off the walls behind me as I flew down the corridor.

Moments later I reached the door I sought. A couple of technicians looked up, startled, as I barged into the large hanger where the time machine stood like a gleaming silver sculpture.

“Get out!” I ordered, my eyes on the machine. Seething hatred boiled in my blood as I glared at it. In my mind it became a monstrosity equal to the pyramid of corpses in Alaska: an evil relic carved of human bones, and the vials of scarlet Pym particles may as well have been filled with blood. How could I have been so stupid, so arrogant as to think I could go back in time without consequences? How many had died? How much more red was in my ledger, thanks to my meddling? I more than anyone, should have remembered. Such power always came with a price.

Well, never again. Once the demon was through, I would not be able to repeat the mistake, no matter what the temptation, no matter how dire the circumstances.

One of the technicians had fled at once, but the other was still hesitating beside the door. He blanched as I turned menacingly towards him, but held his ground, concern for me clear in his face. The thread of my mind that still clung to sanity reminded me his name was David. One of our more promising young engineers. Before all this madness began, I had been considering him as a potential mentor for Cooper…

“Go,” I told him distantly. “I’ll be all right, but you won’t if you stay. I can’t hold it much longer. Get out, and bar the door behind you. And no matter what happens, don’t let anyone in.”

He gulped and nodded, and fled through the door, slamming it behind him. Straining against the need to give in to the rage surging through my veins, I grabbed a metal bar that was leaning against a wall and used it to block the door from my side. A second later it bowed inward as someone tried to force the door open, but it held.

“Nat!” I heard someone shout, then a muddle of raised voices. Amongst them I dimly discerned the voice of the brave young engineer, ordering them back, telling them what I had said. It sounded like he had put himself in front of the door.

A faint smile twitched at the corners of my mouth, that I still commanded such loyalty. Then the thought, and the smile, was swept away. Feeling the rage take hold, I turned and with my last conscious control, fixed my gaze on the machine, let my hatred for it fill me up.

The demon, tethered by only that pitifully thin thread of sanity, shrieked with glee as the thread snapped, and I was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see that coming? If not, shame on you lol, I did warn you we hadn't seen the last of Tanya.
> 
> For those who feel that I'm putting poor Natasha through a unnecessary amount of hell, I apologize. I hate to do it to her, but she's a complicated character, and she's been running from her past for a very long time. Its unrealistic to expect her to live happily ever after unless she first deals with all her baggage, but it felt like she would never do that unless she was forced to by factors outside her control. Feel free to comment and let me know what you think.


	11. 11.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie, Bruce and Shuri discover the truth about Natasha's powers, and Natasha hits rock bottom as she faces the consequences of her actions.

“…safe to say we won’t be using that again.”

“God, what a mess…”

“I don’t understand, what set her off? And why destroy the machine? It makes no sense!”

“What was she _thinking_?”

I drifted, hearing but not really registering the voices above me.

“… can’t believe you’re defending her, she broke her agreement, she put everyone in danger!”

“There’s no need to be so harsh! She’s going through a lot right now!”

“You think I don’t know that? We’ve tried to help her, tried to support her, and look how she repays us! Agrees to the rules, and breaks them into smithereens the first day! How can we help her if she won’t let us? And how can we trust her if she keeps going AWOL?”

“Guys, this isn’t helping! Rhodey, back off!”

“Oh come on Maria, grow a spine! You can’t seriously be considering letting this slide!”

“I’m not letting it slide, okay? If Nat either can’t or won’t cooperate, then we’re going to have to take measures, but right now isn’t the time to discuss it, so pipe down. That’s an order. Is she alright?”

“Mel?”

“Nat? Nat, love, can you hear me?”

I vaguely recognised Melanie’s anxious tones, but I couldn’t answer her. My mind felt as scrambled as the eggs we had been eating for breakfast. Everything was inside out, and nothing seemed to be where it should. I tried to will my lips to move, to form words, but the message seemed to get lost on the way to my mouth.

“She’s not responding.”

“Is she even conscious? Can she hear us?”

“I’m not sure.”

A gentle pressure on my forehead.

“She’s burning up. Let’s get her back to the infirmary…”

“Here, I’ll take her…”

The voices drifted out of focus. I felt myself being lifted, and it was as though I was floating.

There was a jolt of panic.

“Oh my god!”

“Did you see…?”

“What the hell is that?”

Vaguely concerned, I tried again to wake up, to ask what was wrong, but I couldn’t find my body. Everything was wrong. I wasn’t floating, I was drowning. I fought against a relentless current, and waves the size of skyscrapers. I was lost in a dark sea that tossed me back and forth like a child’s ball. I felt like I was being sucked towards the poles, then churned back to the equator, alternately shivering violently as though encased in ice, then sweating as though surrounded by walls of flame.

Exhausted, but too stubborn to give in, I continued to fight. Inch by torturous inch, I made headway, until finally my head broke the surface. My mouth opened, gasping for air.

“Nat!”

Familiar arms wrapped around me as I struggled to fill my lungs, shivering with cold sweat. “You’re awake!” Melanie exclaimed, in tones of heart-felt relief. “It’s okay, Nat, it’s okay, I’m here…”

I shook my head, trying to clear it, but it felt so… wrong. It ached in a way that wasn’t quite a pain; it was just _wrong_.

“What’s going on?” I croaked. “Where am I? What happened?”

“You’re in the lab,” someone responded. I groped around inside my head, and finally identified the voice. Shuri. The Wakandan King’s sister. What was Shuri doing here?

Shuri misinterpreted my confusion. “We brought you here instead of the infirmary because we needed Mel, and she refused to let you out of her sight,” she explained with a smile.

“What happened?” I asked again.

Shuri exchanged loaded glances with Melanie and someone else. I squinted. Bruce stood a few feet away, before one of the translucent monitors, his large face creased with worry.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Melanie asked, gently, but with a note of anxiety.

I searched my memory. My head was a mess, everything all jumbled up, and here and there big chunks seemed to be missing entirely. I could feel the holes, like my brain had been turned into swiss cheese.

“We were making breakfast,” I said slowly. I squeezed my eyes shut, pummelling my brain. “You were teasing me about not being able to cook… and then we were talking about… my ring…” I couldn’t find any more, abruptly confronted by one of those strange gaping holes.

“It’s okay,” Melanie crooned soothingly as alarm blossomed on my face. “Don’t panic, it’s all going to be okay.” But she bit her lip, and I could see the tension in her stance that belied her words. She drew a deep breath, as though to keep herself calm. “I need to ask you something,” she said carefully. She looked into my eyes. “I need you to think really hard, Nat. Does the name Tanya mean anything to you?”

I blinked, baffled by the seemingly irrelevant question. Who the hell was Tanya? I didn’t know anyone named Tanya.

My expression seemed to be all the answer she needed. She straightened up, looking pained.

“So you were right,” Bruce said softly. His expression was puzzling. He almost seemed _disappointed_ , and he couldn’t seem to look me in the eye.

Melanie sighed, a weary, resigned sound. “So it would seem.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bench they had turned into a makeshift cot, cursing as the movement made the room swim unpleasantly. What was the matter with me? I felt weak and dizzy, and simply _breathing_ seemed to be taking far more effort than it should. Had I been injured? Had Melanie healed me again, was that why I was so weak? But it had never felt like _this_ before… I felt like something was sucking at me, draining me of what little energy I had. As though I were running, sprinting as fast as I could, uphill, with heavy weights dragging me back.

“Mel, what’s happening?” I croaked fearfully. “What are you right about? Why can’t I remember? And why do I feel so…” I halted, unable to express the profound _wrongness_ I was experiencing.

The three of them exchanged looks again, making me want to scream with frustration.

“There’s been a… development,” Melanie replied finally, choosing her words with great care. “We have a slight… situation. In hanger three.”

I blanched. Hanger three was where we had set up the time machine. “Has something gone wrong with the machine?”

They looked at each other once more, then Bruce lifted a large hand and turned the monitor beside him to face me.

My eyes widened, my mouth fell open.

A scene of utter devastation met my eyes. The once pristine hanger now looked like a junkyard for scrap metal. The machine had been completely annihilated. Shredded metal and dismembered components covered the floor, some of them still sparking ominously, lighting up the twilight gloom at irregular intervals like tiny flashes of lightning in a distant storm.

“Who did this?” I demanded, outraged.

Bruce winced. “You did.”

I rocked back and stared at him, shocked speechless.

“That’s not all,” he added with another grimace. “Keep watching.”

Swallowing hard, my head still reeling, I resumed watching the screen. At first, I couldn’t understand what he meant. The wreckage of the time machine remained, the room utterly still apart from those ominous little flashes. Then, illuminated for a brief second by the glow of dying electronics, a sudden movement caught my eye. My breath caught in my throat.

The room wasn’t empty. Something moved. A humanoid shape flitted between shadows, a darker silhouette against the gloom.

I recoiled. “What the hell is that?”

“Well, _that_ is the topic of some debate,” Shuri said calmly, “but if Mel is right, and it looks like she is… that is you.” She shrugged almost apologetically. “Or part of you, anyway.”

“ _What_?” What did she mean, that was me? That was ridiculous, I was right here! None of this made sense!

At my darkening expression, Melanie hurriedly sat down beside me, twining her fingers comfortingly through mine, but for once her touch failed to calm me. This was too much to take in. I didn’t understand what was going on, and I was starting to get angry at the lack of sensible answers.

“Show her,” Melanie said firmly, squeezing my hand to caution me against the harsh words that were on the tip of my tongue. Glowering, I pressed my lips together in a tight line to keep myself silent, and waited.

Bruce tapped a few keys on his translucent keyboard, and the scene on the monitor changed. It was the same camera feed, but obviously earlier on. The time machine stood intact and gleaming in the centre of the floor, being worked on by a couple of technicians. A moment later, they looked up as though startled, and recoiled in alarm as a figure hurtled into the room.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and my mouth fell open for the second time in as many minutes. “But that… that’s…” I stammered weakly. My brain couldn’t make sense of what it was seeing. How could that be me? I didn’t remember _any_ of this!

Melanie squeezed my hand tightly, and I forced myself to resume watching.

One of the technicians fled. The other hovered uncertainly by the door, and the figure that was me spoke to him briefly, though there was no sound with the footage. The man, who I vaguely recognised as one of our engineers, nodded with a pained expression, and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him. I watched myself bar the door, then turn back to stare at the time machine, facing the camera.

I let out an involuntary squeak of dismay. Any vestige of sanity fled the face of the woman on the screen as suddenly as though something had flicked a switch, and where my figure had been, now stood something no longer recognisable as human. My physical appearance was unchanged, but it was like watching a demon wear my body like a suit. Her fingers curled into claws, the way she moved screamed menace, and the expression on her face... I gulped, shivering. Hatred and rage burned white-hot in those eyes. Her mouth opened in a silent shriek of fury as she spun, searching for flesh to rend, and, finding none, hurled herself in vicious frustration at the time machine.

“That’s enough,” Melanie said quietly, and Bruce stopped the recording. “Did you see it?” she asked me anxiously. Then, when I just stared at her blankly, still too overcome with horror at what I had just witnessed to even process her question, she sighed. “You didn’t see it. Play it again, Bruce.”

“No,” I protested frantically. “No, don’t!” I never wanted to see that again. I already felt like the image of myself as a demon was branded onto my eyeballs; knew I would be seeing it every time I closed my eyes.

Melanie squeezed my hand again, this time regretfully. “You need to see it,” she said calmly, though I could see it caused her pain to force this on me. “You need to understand.” She nodded to Bruce. “Play it again. Slow it down this time. Show her what really happened.”

Wincing uncomfortably, Bruce tapped the keyboard again.

I fought a shameful desire to huddle like a child against Melanie’s side, and forced myself to watch carefully as the nightmarish scene repeated itself. Clearly there was something here Melanie thought it vital for me to witness, and she would force me to watch as many times as it took for me to get it.

“Slow it down,” Melanie ordered again, as the technician, whose name I finally remembered was David, fled the room.

In slow motion, I watched myself bar the door once more, and then turn towards the camera. Once again, I watched myself change, and something inhuman suddenly looked out of my eyes.

“There!” Melanie stabbed a finger at the screen. “Watch it again, carefully. It happens very fast.”

Bewildered, I squinted at the screen with every bit of concentration I could muster. Bruce rewound a few seconds, then pressed play.

And this time, I saw it.

It happened, as Melanie said, very fast, in a mere fraction of a second. As my body turned to face the camera, in the millisecond before that abrupt transformation, a dark, humanoid shape detached from my back and shot across the room, swiftly melting into the shadows on the far wall.

I gaped, flabbergasted. It was as though my own shadow had fled the coming of the demon, as though it had sensed the impending transformation and decided it wanted no part of it.

Which was of course impossible.

“You see?” Melanie said eagerly.

I nodded numbly. “But… what _did_ I see?” I asked, swallowing hard. I put a hand to my head, feeling dizzy. “That was the thing that’s in the hanger? It came out of _me_?”

They all nodded gravely.

“It appears,” Bruce said delicately, “that becoming a homicidal rage monster is _not_ your superpower, so much as a… rather unfortunate side effect.”

“An _unfortunate side effect_?” I repeated faintly, my voice an octave higher than usual. I swallowed hard again, fighting to contain the panic swelling inside me. An enemy of flesh and blood I could deal with; even aliens could still bleed, could still die, but _this_ unholy manifestation from within was rapidly sending me into serious freak-out territory. “A side effect of what? That thing? You’re saying that black thing is part of me?”

“Technically not quite _part_ of you,” Shuri corrected cheerfully, “but close enough. I must say it was good of you to finally perform in front of a camera; we’ve been able to get a really good look at what you’re doing for the first time, and from what we have observed, we’ve concluded that what you are actually doing is detaching your shadow, giving it a life of its own, separate from you.” She grinned. “We’re calling it the Peter Pan effect.”

“But it’s still connected to you somehow,” Bruce interjected with none of her levity. “We think that’s why you’re feeling so weak right now; its taking most of your energy to keep it animated and separate…”

“Are you _insane_?” I yelled, suddenly on my feet. I staggered and almost fell, as though the strength drained from my legs, leaving them unable to hold me up. Melanie and Shuri caught me between them.

“Careful, love,” Melanie murmured, stricken. “You don’t have energy to waste.”

I shook my head frantically, fighting another wave of dizziness. “You’re saying that thing is my _shadow_?” I stared in disbelief as they all nodded in synchronisation.

“No,” I whispered, almost begging. “It can’t be. You’re wrong, you have to be. That’s impossible.”

“It should be,” Bruce agreed. “I wouldn’t have believed it either, except there is one other rather conclusive bit of evidence…”

I swallowed. “What evidence?”

Pursing her lips, Shuri picked up an enormous flashlight from the table next to her. Wordlessly she switched it on, and I was abruptly blinded by light. Putting my hand over my eyes, I squinted through my fingers. Shuri pointed silently. With a gulp, I looked over my shoulder.

The brilliant light caused every shadow to spring out in sharp contrast. Bruce’s huge one blotted out a sizable portion of the room. There was Shuri’s, and Melanie’s… every person and object, transposed onto the gleaming polished floor. A collection of shadow puppets, frozen in tableau, but with one very significant difference: One particular cast member was nowhere to be seen. Despite the fact that I sat squarely in the spotlight, and blatantly defying every law of physics, my own shadow was missing.

“No,” I whispered. I looked back at them, beseeching, as Shuri shut off the flashlight. “No. It can’t be. That thing downstairs... it can’t be…”

“I’m afraid it is, love,” Melanie replied wearily. “Wanda is keeping an eye on it, and she has confirmed it. She says it feels _exactly_ like you, to her.”

I sat, staring numbly at the floor, my mind a whirl as I tried to make sense of the impossible.

Shuri turned off the torch and set it aside. Exchanging anxious looks, they waited.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered finally. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head throbbing. “Even if that is… my shadow… how does that explain what’s been happening?” I opened my eyes again and peered at Bruce. “You said the homicidal thing was a side effect? How can that be a side effect of my shadow going AWOL?”

He grimaced, and looked at Melanie. I followed his gaze.

“Mel?” I asked guardedly. “You have a theory?”

She winced. “Its more like wild conjecture at this point…”

“Just tell me.”

She took a deep breath. “I think you are siphoning off the main part of your consciousness, using your shadow as a vessel, effectively separating your mind from your body.”

I sat back down abruptly, and gaped at her. Then, seeing she was deadly serious, I replayed the sentence in my head, trying to make sense of it. “I’m sending my mind… into my shadow,” I said dubiously.

She nodded grimly. “It may sound crazy… but it makes sense, in a twisted kind of way, when you consider what you were going through when your power first manifested. You were desperate for a way to escape the pain Goravitch was inflicting on you… so you separated your mind from the experience, sending your consciousness, all the parts of you that could think, could feel pain, into your shadow, and leaving behind…”

“A monster,” I finished bitterly.

She winced. “Not on purpose… but something like that, yes. You essentially removed _yourself_ , leaving behind your most basic instincts and emotions. Call it a survival mechanism. You were trying to protect yourself, and the most fundamental form of defence is attack. At our core, we’re all animals, and any animal will attack if backed into a corner and provoked. Couple that instinct with your rage and hatred for Goravitch and what he was doing to you, without any conscious control, and you get… well, that.” She gestured at the screen, at the chaos my fury had caused.

I glanced at it and shuddered, averting my eyes from the carnage, remembering the inhuman creature, the rage and hatred burning in her eyes. My eyes. I looked down at my hands, and found them clenched into fists. “Goravitch,” I said slowly. “Goravitch did this to me.”

Melanie gulped. “Well we can’t be sure it was _just_ him, it’s quite possible you were born with some form of mental ability, or at least a strong predilection towards it, we don’t know anything about your parents and what you might have inherited from them after all -” She flinched again as I fixed her with a contemptuous look. “But yes, you’re right, Goravitch’s serum is the most likely cause,” she concluded in resignation. She sighed. “From what we’ve read in his notes… we think the serum attacked the brain, severing connections and making new ones in all the wrong places, that’s why all his other subjects went mad. In your case, by chance it must have created or strengthened connections with previously unused sections of the brain, forging the paths that made your gift possible, and the extreme circumstances prompted your power to manifest the way it did. But the entire experience was so traumatic that your mind wouldn’t allow you to consciously realise what you had done. It made you forget everything, kept it all locked away in your head, that’s why it’s never happened again, until you went back to the Red Room and stole Goravitch’s files. Once you learned the truth, the mental barriers that were inhibiting your powers collapsed.”

I frowned. I had gone back to the Red Room? I searched my head in acute frustration. I recalled _planning_ to go back, I remembered rebuilding the machine. I even remembered the file she mentioned, with another shudder at the all-too-graphic recollection of what it contained. But in between, where the memory of how I had acquired that information should have been, there was just an unfathomable blank space. The hole felt raw, aching around the edges, as though the memories had been violently torn out at the roots.

“It’s okay,” Melanie murmured gently, seeing my consternation.

I rubbed my forehead, trying to concentrate. “These holes in my memory… these missing pieces…” A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I turned my head just in time to catch sight of my shadow manifestation flitting across the debris-strewn hanger once more. “You think that’s where they are? Inside that thing down there?”

“I know they are,” Melanie said, her expression becoming pained. She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, love, but the memories you are missing are causing you a great deal of distress. Wanda says the shadow is in terrible pain. I think that’s why you didn’t reconnect properly with your shadow this time; you don’t _want_ those memories back.”

I tried to process that. “But if it’s still loose… and in pain… why am I not trying to slaughter everyone in sight?”

“Well, that’s the good news,” Shuri spoke up brightly. Her perpetual cheerfulness was starting to get annoying. “Your shadow is merrily prancing about all on its own with just a handful of memories inside it, while the rest of you is sitting here perfectly rationally, which proves that it doesn’t have to be an all or nothing split. Once you learn to control the process, you shouldn’t become a rage monster anymore.”

“Control it?” I repeated, aghast. “I don’t want to control it, I want _rid_ of it!” My eyes narrowed as something they had said before suddenly sank in. “You said Wanda is keeping an eye on it. Why? Is it dangerous?”

Bruce gave a shrug. “We’re not sure, to be honest. It appears to be able to manifest in corporeal form, and interact with the physical world. Wanda seemed the best suited to handle it if it becomes hostile, but it hasn’t done anything we could call threatening so far. It hasn’t even attempted to leave the hanger. It’s just sort of… there.”

“Well, good,” I said, straightening with sudden resolve. “Then it can stay there! I can live without a shadow, and it sounds like I’m not going to miss those memories much either. It can keep them. Lock it in, keep it away from me. If this is what’s causing the whole homicidal thing… as long as its separate from me, I can’t hurt anyone, can I? No shadow, no cursed superpower! Things can go back to normal!”

“Ah.” Shuri’s smile faded, and she grimaced at the others. “Well… that would be the bad news.”

“You can’t go back, Nat,” Bruce said sadly. “You can’t keep it locked up and pretend it’s not part of you.”

“Why not?” I snapped. I didn’t care what they said, I was determined not to go near the infernal thing. Who needed a shadow anyway? I slid back off the bench, determined to get back to work, back into a world where I felt comfortable and in control, a world with problems that I could solve… then swore as I staggered, my knees giving way under a fresh swell of nausea. The room felt like it was swaying like the deck of a ship. Melanie hauled me back upright. She was chewing her lip again, seeming close to tears.

“That’s why,” Bruce answered, looking pained. “You know there’s a time limit on how long you could maintain the separation, that’s why you always woke up after thirty minutes. Your body can only tolerate the strain for so long. The less of your mind you siphon off, the longer you seem to be able to sustain it, but even keeping your shadow animated with the handful of memories you’ve left in it is taking a toll. It’s been over ten hours; you can’t keep it up much longer. Look at you! It’s draining so much energy you can barely stand!”

“So what are you saying?” I snarled through gritted teeth.

“You have to reconnect with it,” Melanie said, almost pleadingly. “You have to figure out how to take your shadow back, and soon, or… we’re afraid it will kill you.”

I hauled myself back to my seat on the bench, staring at them. Then, slowly, I began to laugh. I laughed until I couldn’t breathe; helpless, mad laughter than held nothing of mirth. The sound faded until it could no longer be heard, my shoulders heaving as I fought for breath, feeling dangerously close to hysteria.

“Nat?” Bruce said nervously.

I managed to suck in oxygen and started to cough. “I’m fine,” I gasped eventually, once the fit subsided. “But this isn’t real. It can’t be real. It’s absurd. My shadow’s off playing hide and seek, and I have to go chasing after it, or I’ll die? _Again_? Is that why Peter Pan was so desperate to get his back? Was he going expire if he didn’t? Am I Peter Pan now? Makes sense I suppose. Instead of the boy who never grew up, I’m the woman who never dies. Or keeps dying and coming back…” I laughed mockingly again, but it caught in my throat and turned into another coughing fit. Shuri fetched some water and they all watched me anxiously as I sipped. “So,” I grated when I could breathe again. “How do you reattach a shadow? Any ideas? Shall I try sticking it on with soap? Is Wendy Darling going to sew it on for me?” I laughed mirthlessly again.

“I don’t know,” Melanie said, troubled. “We don’t know how it works, Nat. But you have to try, and you have to try _now_ , before it’s too late. If you lose consciousness again…” She looked anguished. “You might never wake up.”

I grimaced, my hilarity dying as another wave of weakness hit. “I guess I can’t argue with that. Help me up.”

Melanie and Shuri threaded their arms around my shoulders, supporting me between them as I heaved myself to my feet. I wobbled, but managed to stay upright.

“Okay,” I said reluctantly. “Let’s go find my stupid shadow, before I pass out again.”

My legs trembled beneath me as I tried to force them to work. Half-carrying me, the three of us made our way to the door.

“Good luck,” Bruce wished me sombrely.

The relatively short distance between the lab and hanger three felt like a mile. Every breath came with increasing difficulty, my heartbeat pounding like a drum in my ears. The corridors were eerily empty. No doubt the staff were all shivering in fear behind locked doors yet again, waiting for the all clear.

Wanda and Maria were waiting outside the door to hanger three. They both looked intensely relieved as we rounded the corner.

“Thank god,” Maria murmured fervently. She lowered the gun she had instinctively raised.

“I’m not sure _that’s_ going to do any good,” Shuri said, frowning at the weapon.

Maria bristled. “Well it’s all I’ve got, okay?” she snapped. “I’m not used to dealing with creepy shadow creatures in my own building!” I had never seen her so visibly unnerved. I also didn’t like the way she was looking at me. Or rather, not looking at me. After her initial relief at our appearance, she was now studiously avoiding my eyes, her lips pressed into a tight, uncomfortable line.

“What’s it doing?” Melanie asked Wanda, ignoring this exchange.

Wanda shrugged. “Not much. A bit of hiding, a bit of dashing around, then more hiding. I don’t sense much in the way of conscious thought. Mostly memories, and the feelings connected with them, repeating on a loop, over and over.” She glanced at me, her face pinched and pale, her gaze holding mixed pity and anger.

I frowned, perplexed. Pity I could understand, much as I disliked it, if the memories I had banished into the shadow was as painful as Melanie claimed. But why was she angry?

Wanda looked back at Melanie. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

Melanie sighed. “How can she? Her memories are in there.” She jerked her head towards the door.

Wanda scowled. “Well hurry up and get them back in her head where she can stop thinking about it! If I have to watch them one more time I’m going kill something.”

I looked between them, bewildered by the harsh edge to her voice, and the agony that momentarily spasmed over Melanie’s face. “What are you talking about?”

Melanie silenced her sister with a look. “Not now,” she said tersely. “Come on, we need to get this over with. Then we can… discuss it.” She wouldn’t look at me.

“Discuss what?” I demanded in frustration. “What have I done?”

She managed a strained smile. “You’ll see. Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past, and you’re forgiven.”

“Forgiven?” I repeated, alarmed. “What do I need to be forgiven for?” I looked between them, feeling increasing distress as they all avoided eye contact. “Oh god… what did I do? Did I hurt someone?” My voice rapidly ascended the scale as my imagination spun into overdrive. “Where are Sam and Rhodey and Clint? Pepper? Are they alright? Oh god, please tell me I didn’t…!”

“Stop, stop, stop,” Melanie interrupted me hastily. “They’re fine, it’s nothing like that! Don’t be afraid.”

I stared at her, swallowing hard. Easy for her to say. I was suddenly feeling more afraid than I had ever felt in my life. I was terrified to face this, to see the memory that had put that look on her face.

“Come on,” she said again, reassuringly. “It will be okay. I promise.”

I nodded slowly, unwillingly. “All right. What do I need to do?”

She shrugged a little helplessly. “I guess you go in there and… do what feels right.”

I made an aggravated noise. “You can’t be a little more specific?” I demanded peevishly.

She winced. “Powers don’t come with an instruction manual, my love. I have no idea _how_ I do what I do, I just do it. You’ll figure it out.” She turned me gently towards the door. “Just follow your instincts.”

“Great,” I muttered sarcastically. “Because that seems to have been working _so_ well so far…” My instincts had created a bloodthirsty demon-creature, after all. My foreboding increased as I tried to stand alone, and couldn’t. My strength was dwindling fast.

Melanie glanced at Shuri, who still held up my other side. “Maybe let Wanda help me with her,” she suggested quietly. “Just in case.”

Shuri looked slightly disappointed, but saw the wisdom. Wanda stood a better chance against this thing if it turned out to be hostile. Or against my demonic alter-ego, I thought bitterly, if meeting my shadow somehow prompted my mind to desert my body entirely once more. She nodded and ducked out from under my arm, allowing Wanda to take her place.

“Ready?” Melanie asked me.

Sucking in a deep breath, I nodded.

At her silent command, the door opened, and the two of them helped me limp through the portal. It closed quietly behind us.

I squinted around, my eyes flicking over all the dark places in the room. Then I stiffened as a shape detached itself from a shadowy corner and sidled along the wall.

I watched it warily. Melanie and Wanda caught sight of it too. As a threesome, we edged around, picking our way over the debris, keeping the thing in view as it circled the walls, dodging between shadows.

“Incredible,” Melanie murmured, her anxiety momentarily eclipsed by fascination. “What is it even made of? I can’t see _anything_! It’s like it has no atoms, no molecular structure whatsoever… Maybe some kind of dark matter…?”

“Mel,” I whispered irritably. “Do you think we could save the metaphysical debate for later? What do I _do_?”

“I don’t know! Try and get closer.”

We stepped toward it, but as if our movement startled it, the shadow shot across the room, retreating to the furthest corner.

“We scared her,” Wanda whispered.

“What do you mean _her_?” I demanded. “Don’t you mean _it_?”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “She’s _you_ , Nat. Your memories, your emotions…” She flinched at whatever she was sensing. “We interrupted the loop. She’s reacting to our presence… but she’s almost mindless. Almost. There’s a tiny sliver of consciousness… maybe just enough to cooperate. Or to decide to attack, if she feels threatened,” she added grimly.

I sighed. “Okay. Help me sit down, and then you two back off.”

“Are you sure?” Melanie asked anxiously.

“She said we’re scaring it,” I pointed out. I rolled my eyes at Wanda’s cross look. “Oh fine, _her_ then. Maybe if you guys back off, she’ll come closer. I can’t even stand, I doubt she’ll feel threatened by me.”

They looked at each other.

“Well,” Wanda ventured, pulling a face, “you did tell her to go with her instincts, Mel.”

“I suppose,” Melanie agreed unhappily.

They reluctantly lowered me to the floor, Melanie’s quick hand gesture clearing a space in the scattered debris. I slumped, glad to feel something solid beneath me. The room was starting to sway unpleasantly again.

“Back away,” I requested dizzily. “Let her see me.”

Slowly, they did as I asked, backing away until they reached the wall, leaving me exposed in the middle of the room.

Fighting my desire to simply lie down and sleep, my head feeling heavier with every moment, I waited.

For a few minutes, all was still. Then, flowing smoothly as ink across the floor, a shape moved towards me, reforming into a familiar silhouette. My shadow stood over me for a moment. Her head seemed to cock quizzically to one side, considering, then she lowered herself to sit down opposite me, mirroring my pose.

“Hello,” I said nervously. I felt a little ridiculous, talking to my shadow, but I didn’t have any better ideas.

The black shape made no reply. Of course not.

I fought to stay focussed, my head feeling stranger than ever. I felt a deep vibration within my mind, and an answering echo from the being opposite, as though we were two magnets and we were oscillating between poles, alternately repulsing and attracting each other. Fascinated, I tried to grasp the sensation, tried to hold on to the attracting force. Something fought back, desperately trying to repel it again. Gritting my teeth, I refused to give in, imagining myself digging in my heels and dragging it back, sweat beading on my forehead from the effort. For a moment it seemed like it would be a stalemate. Then, so suddenly I almost fell over backwards, the opposing force gave way. I recovered my balance, staring in fascination at the dark shape before me. The vibration deepened, humming through my very bones. My shadow called to me, irresistibly. It was part of me, belonged with me. Instinctively, I raised a hand, and the shadow figure copied me. I reached out slowly, fingers splayed. My shadow mirrored my movement. It seemed to hesitate, her hand hovered close to mine for a heartbeat, then our palms touched.

It felt like touching an electric fence. I made a startled noise as a shock passed swiftly through my body, making my heart lurch. The shadow vanished, merging with my body faster than the eye could follow. Thoughts and memories charged back into my mind like a herd of wildebeest fleeing a pack of hyenas, stampeding to fill those gaping holes in my head. I doubled over, clutching my temples, the barrage tearing a ragged cry from my lips.

I huddled on the floor, rocking, demented, unable to think, unable to breathe, every particle of my being consumed by an inferno of pain.

“Nat!” Melanie was by my side in an instant.

I shoved her away, blindly. I couldn’t bear to be touched. I knew now why Wanda was angry, what memories she had been forced to endure over and over. “Tanya,” I choked, barely aware I was speaking aloud. “No… no… it’s my fault… it’s my fault…”

“Nat,” Melanie tried to comfort me, “Nat please, it’s all going to be okay.” She tried again to fold me in her arms, and again I flinched away, scrambling blindly across the floor, uncaring of the debris and the sharp edges of twisted metal that tugged and tore at my clothing and splashed fresh blood over my skin. The pain was nothing compared to the maelstrom within; and yet, though I would have welcomed it, welcomed any release from this agony, the burn that signalled the advent of the demon stubbornly refused to ignite. Guilt and despair, it seemed, no matter how overwhelming, were not similar enough to the state provoked by torture to trigger the reaction. I writhed, screaming inside, wishing I knew how it worked and could trigger it myself, begging the demon to break free and banish these memories again. I should never have reclaimed them, I should have let my shadow suck the life out of me. I was better off dead, the world was a better place without me. If I had had a gun, I would have put it to my temple at that moment. But my gun was missing, they must have taken it from me while I was unconscious. Either that, or my hideous alter-ego had dropped it here somewhere during its frenzy of destruction…

I opened my eyes, casting about feverishly, but my vision was so blurred with tears I could barely see. I began to search frantically through the scrap, barely registering Melanie’s distressed exclamation at the further mess I was making of my hands. Nothing mattered but finding a means to end this nightmare… but it was hopeless, the gun was lost, I would never find it.

But perhaps I didn’t need to. My hand closed around a spear of jagged metal with a wickedly sharp point.

“No!” Wanda yelled, throwing herself at me and tackling me bodily to the ground as I attempted to plunge my makeshift blade into my chest.

“Nat!” Melanie’s anguished scream echoed off the walls, but it was all meaningless noise. I fought savagely to free myself just long enough, clinging furiously to the shard of twisted metal that had become the only answer…

Wanda swore foully as my elbow connected with her head. Red smoke coiled around me like chains, locking me in place, but I continued to struggle ferociously, barely aware of what I was doing, only desperate to put an end to the misery that followed me wherever I went, put an end to the curse that doomed everyone I touched, everyone I loved. Perhaps if I sacrificed myself now, the way I had on Vormir, it would put everything right, put everything back the way it was. If I had never lived, none of this would have happened. Perhaps, if I wasn’t here, Melanie would be safe, wouldn’t fall to the same darkness that had claimed Tanya…

“Damn it, will you stop!” Wanda grunted, her teeth clenched as she fought to keep me restrained. “Stop it, Nat! That won’t achieve anything! All you’re doing is hurting her! You swore you’d never hurt her again!”

Her words finally penetrated the churning maelstrom of my thoughts. I ceased to struggle, the shard falling from my limp hand.

There was a moment of stillness, then Wanda warily released me, first firmly removing my makeshift weapon out of reach. She backed away as Melanie fell to her knees at my side, pulling me into her arms and clutching me tightly to her as though she was never going to let me go, her entire body shaking with sobs.

I lay still, my head cradled against her shoulder, and stared blankly ahead, my own eyes now hot and dry.

“Is everything okay in there?” Shuri’s voice was muffled, heard through the thick steel door.

“We’re fine,” I heard Wanda call back, her voice strained. “Everything’s fine. Just give us a minute.”

I didn’t move, lying unresisting in Melanie’s clinging embrace. I felt like I would never move again. The weight of my guilt was too heavy to lift, too vast a burden to bear. I felt Melanie’s tears wet my cheeks, and it felt like she was crying for me, shedding the tears I could no longer find.

For a while, that’s all there was, as though the world had paused in its spin, encapsulating us in a moment of pain-filled limbo.

Eventually, however, I felt Melanie regain control over herself. Her tears slowed, her desperate grip loosened slightly. She shifted me carefully to examine my injuries, and I felt the tingle of her powers at work as she directed her attention to healing the myriad bleeding scrapes I had inflicted on myself. I didn’t react, letting her do what she would. It didn’t matter anymore. I was broken, shattered beyond repair. No power on Earth, not even hers, could fix me now. Nothing could erase the mistakes of the past; nothing could blot out the horror of the future I faced. Nothing could bring back the lives that had been lost due to my meddling. The lives that would continue to be lost unless I made an impossible choice.

The cuts closed, but the blood remained, staining my hands red. As my hands were forever stained, steeped in the death that followed me no matter how much I tried to change, no matter what I did to wipe out the red in my ledger.

 _Can you? Can you wipe out that much red?_ The face of Loki, smirking out of my memory, mocked me. His voice whispered in my ear, as vivid as the moment I had heard him say those words, so many years ago. _Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red! You pretend to be different, to have your own code, something to make up for the horrors. But the horrors are part of you, and they will never go away!_

I squeezed my eyes shut, and fought to breathe, smothered by blackest despair. Loki had been right. I could never make up for the horrors. I was cursed. Wherever I went, I caused nothing but death and destruction and pain. Even my love was treacherous. My love for Tanya had sent her down the path to Hydra, to Viper, to evil… Melanie’s arms felt like they were the only thing holding me together. As though, if she let go, I would crumble, disintegrate into pieces.

After a while, as we continued to sprawl unmoving amongst the wreckage of my failure, there was a sigh. A slight crunch of slag underfoot, as Wanda returned and squatted beside us. “Mel,” she said gently.

A pause, then I felt my lover turn her head a fraction, her damp cheek so close to mine it briefly stuck to my skin.

“Mel,” Wanda repeated, sadly. “We can’t stay here. She has to move.”

She sniffed, then I felt her return a slight nod. Her hands lovingly stroked my hair.

“Nat,” she murmured, a catch in her voice. “Nat, love, you have to wake up.”

I didn’t move. Even peeling back my eyelids seemed to require more energy than I could muster. I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel. The pain was now so deep it no longer registered; I was numb. My skull felt as though it had been filled with thick custard, my thoughts sluggish, barely flickering.

She shook me gently. “I’m sorry, my love, I’m so sorry, but you have to get up.”

Why? I wondered dully. I didn’t want to get up. I would have laid down on the floor and let oblivion take me, but Melanie’s insistent shaking prevented me. “Nat, please,” she whispered. “Please come back to me.”

The overpowering love in her plea made an impression, drove the numbness back. Needles of fire seemed to lance through my limbs as feeling returned, and I winced.

“Come back to me,” she coaxed.

I dragged my eyelids open. Melanie’s stunning blue irises were inches away, and filled with relief as she saw me responding. She squeezed me encouragingly. “That’s it. Baby steps. Now move your hand.”

I thought about that for a few seconds, then gingerly wriggled my fingers. My ring sparkled as the diamond caught the light, and a little more feeling crept into my chest. Had it really been only last night that she had given it to me? Mere hours since I had been the happiest I had ever been? The twinkle of the gem felt mocking. How could I have been so stupid as to think I could have a happy ending? I didn’t deserve it. But Melanie would not leave me, would stay by my side no matter how much it hurt her. I couldn’t give up, because if I did, so would she, and that could not be. I couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. I had to get up, had to drag my myself up off this debris-strewn floor, and deal with the consequences of my actions.

Melanie smiled tearfully as my resolution grew in my eyes. “That’s my girl. Come on, sweetie, come back to me. You can do this. Come back to me.”

Though I didn’t deserve it, the unconditional love in her voice still warmed me. For her and her alone, I found the will to drag the shredded pieces of my composure back together. I sucked in a deep, rattling breath, and after a moment’s struggle, managed to sit up.

Melanie watched me anxiously, and I felt a dull ache that I had caused her yet more pain. “I’m all right,” I told her thickly, my tongue reluctant to obey my instructions.

“No you’re not,” she said softly. “But you will be. I promise, Nat. We’ll get through this. Just please… please don’t try to leave me again.” Her voice cracked and she shuddered, as though the words caused her physical agony.

I flinched. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. My voice sounded cracked and hollow, echoing from within my broken shell. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking…”

She gathered me back into her arms and kissed me tenderly. “Come on, let’s get you out of here, and let the clean-up crew in to deal with this mess.”

Grimacing, I nodded. With a mammoth effort, and the support of her steadying hand, I managed to heave myself upright. I felt drained to the dregs, my limbs shook, but I was on my feet. And there was my shadow, stretching out over the floor, exactly where it was supposed to be.

“Now you just behave yourself,” I told it severely. “No more wandering off.” The realisation that I was talking to my shadow suddenly struck me as hysterical, and I found myself sniggering. The light-headed giddiness made no sense, coming on the heels of such cataclysmal depression. I wondered if I had finally cracked up.

“You’re just tired,” Melanie said soothingly, smiling as I giggled again. “Come on, let’s go.”

“’Kay,” I agreed, slurring the word. We picked our way back over the debris to the door.

Maria and Shuri were waiting anxiously beyond the portal.

“You did it,” Shuri exclaimed happily, seeing me walk through unaided. “You’re alright!”

Maria did not smile, and her grim countenance sobered me up like a dash of cold water to the face.

Gently, I shrugged off Melanie’s supporting arm. My eyes on the floor, I mustered the strength to do what had to be done. “Friday?” I said quietly.

“Yes boss?” The disembodied voice was subdued.

“Please inform all personnel that Maria Hill is reinstated as Commander, effective immediately. As of this moment, I relinquish my position, on the grounds that I am no longer psychologically fit for duty.”

“Nat, you don’t need to -” Melanie began, sounding distressed.

I silenced her with a look. Turning my gaze on Maria, I found her hard expression had softened slightly, her anger tempered by pity. She said nothing. There was nothing to say. I had made serious mistakes, betrayed her trust, put everyone in danger. I wasn’t fit to command. They should never have put me in charge in the first place.

I waited, then, when she still said nothing, assumed myself dismissed. Turning away, I headed back down the hallway with weary, stumbling steps. “Don’t,” I said quietly, as Melanie moved to aid me. “Just don’t.”

Hurt, she fell back. I sensed rather than saw Wanda’s condemnatory glare. She stepped to Melanie’s side, slipping a comforting arm around her shoulders, as they all watched me walk away.

Alone, I made my weary way back to the residence wing. I kept my eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge the stares that followed me, the faces that peeked through windows and around doors, the whispers and swiftly cut-off conversations.

Pushing open the door, I entered the common lounge into a sudden and very sharp silence, as though the discussion that had abruptly ceased at my arrival had been especially heated. The rest of the team were there, but I steadfastly ignored their presence. Whatever they were feeling, whether it was betrayal, anger, pity, or even sympathy, was irrelevant; I didn’t want to deal with any of it right now. Forcing my legs to keep going just a few moments longer, I crossed the room, heading purposefully for the bar. Leaning against its comfortingly solid surface, I fought the desire to slide to the floor right there and determinedly rummaged through the chiller. I pulled out two litre bottles of vodka – the good stuff, the bottles I had shipped from Russia especially, not the cheap rubbish the guys insisted on violating with sugary mixers – then, as an afterthought, tucked one bottle under my arm and pulled out a third. Carrying my awkward burden, ignoring the slightly shocked stares from across the room, I stumbled into the adjoining training room and kicked the door shut behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know giving Natasha powers is really controversial, and I'm a bit in two minds about it myself. I never set out to do that at all, in fact I've always really admired Natasha for being an avenger on pure strength of will and ability alone. Originally, Natasha was simply going to develop PTSD, which seemed a fairly logical reaction to all the trauma she was having to deal with, but as I was writing this story took on a life of its own, and I couldn't keep it from turning into something more supernatural. It feels right to me - but I would love to see your comments on whether you love or hate this development.


	12. 12.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha has to go for therapy. As though enduring her first hangover wasn't punishment enough.

Clint found me there some time later, slumped on the floor with my back against the raised boxing ring. The draining after-effects of my shadow manifestation had one positive benefit: getting rolling drunk was considerably easier than usual. As silver linings go, it wasn’t much, but I would take whatever I could get. To my annoyance however, I still hadn't passed out when I ran out of alcohol.

“Piss off!” I snarled warningly, as Clint rounded the corner of the ring. “Leave me alone, or I’ll beat the crap out of you! Both of you,” I added somewhat confusedly, as the figure in front of me seemed to double.

Clint looked down at me and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you look like you can beat the crap out me,” he said scathingly. “You look like you’re about to puke, and you’re not even armed!”

I hefted an empty bottle warningly. “I’ve got a weapon. And I can still use it, so piss off!”

Clint just sighed, and sat down on the floor beside me. I glowered at him, but he had called my bluff. I couldn’t bring myself to actually hurt him. Petulantly, I lowered the bottle. “Did you at least bring more vodka?”

Clint rolled his eyes again, but obligingly produced another of my personal stash. “Don’t tell Bruce,” he warned me. “He’s already having kittens. Something about you going through withdrawal, and alcohol making it worse.”

“Whatever,” I snorted, reaching for the bottle.

He swatted my hand away, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig himself first, then pulled a disgusted face. “Jesus, how do you drink this stuff?” He passed me the bottle and grimaced again as I took a huge swallow, then looked at the three empty bottles littering the floor. “How are you not _dead_?” he asked with something like awe.

I flinched, and didn’t answer.

He looked immediately contrite. “Ah, Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” He fell awkwardly silent.

I just drank more vodka, gulping it down recklessly, willing it to overload my system. I wanted to pass out. I wanted oblivion. I couldn’t stand to be awake and aware, knowing he and the others not only knew about Tanya, but had probably seen everything that had just happened in the hanger over the camera feed. Nothing in my training in any way prepared me to deal with this.

“Look,” Clint ventured after a minute, “I know how you feel –“

“Do you?” I snarled furiously, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Really, Clint? Then do tell! Tell me, what does it feel like to have your mind ripped out of your body and sent for a joy ride? How does it feel to not be able to stop yourself from trying to disembowel your friends?” My voice rose harshly, the words slurring only slightly. “How am I supposed to feel, knowing I betrayed Melanie with the baby-killing bitch who’s trying to take over the world? How does it feel, Clint, to know you’re going to have to destroy someone you love?”

Clint looked stumped. “Well,” he admitted, “all right, that was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

I snorted, unmoved by his apology, and took another swig.

There was another silence, and then Clint sighed heavily again. “She really means that much to you?” he asked quietly, his voice shaded with doubt. “You’re sure it wasn’t just that… place… messing with your head?”

I shook my head dully. I wished I could blame the Red Room. I wished these feelings could be put down to some twist of psychology, some spiteful programming that could be undone. But while the Red Room was certainly to blame for my physical relationship with Tanya, no-one had forced me to become so emotionally involved with the girl. That was all on me.

Clint hesitated. “I’ve got to ask, Nat. _Why_? Why, when you have Mel, would you fall for someone else? Someone so… evil?”

I closed my eyes wearily. The additional alcohol wasn’t working. Far from achieving oblivion, I felt like it was actually making me more lucid, which was the last thing I wanted. “She wasn’t evil,” I replied reluctantly. “She was complicated. Yes, she was dangerous, and ruthless, and even cruel at times, but she was also brilliant, and sweet, and vulnerable, and she loved me. She had loved me all along, ever since we were children.” I opened my eyes again to stare into his, trying to make him understand. “Don’t you see, how amazing that was? How special that made her? That after all she had suffered, everything she had been forced to witness, all the evil things crowded into her head that she could never forget, she was still capable of love? I let them beat love out of me so thoroughly it took me decades to find it again, but she clung to her love for me throughout everything she endured. It was what kept her sane. And I betrayed her.” My tone turned darker. “I gave her everything she ever wanted, promised her I would save her from that place, and then I abandoned her there, threw away her life to save my own miserable skin. No wonder she hates me. No wonder she’s become a monster. She had so much potential, she could have been a force for good, and I ruined her. I turned her into Viper. It’s my fault.”

Clint winced. “Well I can see why you would think that, but I still think that’s a bit harsh,” he said quietly. “I mean, its been nearly twenty years by her reckoning. Anything could have happened to her in that time.”

I shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter, does it,” I mumbled bitterly. “I still have to kill her. Although the way things are going, the second we come face to face, my shadow will probably go AWOL again, and I’ll rip her into a million tiny pieces. Problem solved.” I took another swig of vodka, trying to overrule the burn of bile stinging the back of my throat. The thought of having to kill Tanya was agony, but the thought of doing so unknowingly, waking up to find her blood splattered on my hands, her dismembered body in fragments all around me, was so much worse. I gripped the vodka bottle tightly, fighting to keep from spilling the contents of my stomach on the floor.

Clint looked as though he were having stomach troubles himself, his rugged face all screwed up. “It won’t come to that,” he said finally, presumably once he had choked the vomit back down. “Bruce and Shuri said they’re sure the homicidal demon thing will stop once you learn to control your powers. You’ll get a handle on this, Nat, I know it.”

“Great,” I muttered sullenly. “So I just get to put a bullet in her head instead.”

“It might not come to that either,” he argued. “Look, if she was capable of love before, then she must still be capable of it now, and that means she can’t be all bad. Maybe we won’t have to kill her. Maybe we can find a way to save her.”

“And then what?” I snapped viciously. “Invite her to be maid of honour at my wedding?”

Clint cracked a smile. “Maybe you could marry them both?” he suggested slyly. His smile widened into a teasing grin. “I mean come on, two women at once? It’s every man’s dream!”

I snorted. “I am not a man,” I retorted with intoxicated dignity. “Men are pigs.” But I couldn’t help flushing at the memory of a few _very_ private fantasies I hadn’t been able to help entertaining at one point or another.

Clint looked smug. “I knew you’d thought about it.”

I hit him as hard as I could manage in my current condition. It was pitiful. I doubted he’d even have a bruise. I settled for lashing him with my tongue. “You are a sick bastard!”

“What, at least I got you thinking about something other than death for a second,” he retorted. He caught my fist when I would have hit him again, and firmly tugged the half-empty bottle from my other hand. “Now you listen to me. You’re going to stop trying to drown yourself in this god-awful paint-stripper you call liquor, and pull yourself together. I don’t think this mess is all your fault, but if you think it is, then get off your ass and make it right. And you can start by apologising to your fiancé. When you agree to marry her one day, and then try to kill yourself the next, it kind of sends mixed signals don’t you think?”

I flinched. I knew he was right. I had brought my problems on myself, I had to fix them, and drinking myself into oblivion wasn’t going to help. No solution to any problem had ever been found at the bottom of a bottle.

He smiled as I slumped in defeat. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” he remarked affectionately. Then he picked me up, ignoring my furious protest. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

*****

Melanie was not asleep.

She looked entirely unsurprised to see me struggling weakly in Clint’s arms when she answered the door, merely standing back to let him carry me inside without a word.

I wriggled furiously, fuming at my inability to escape. “Damn it, Clint, put me down!”

“Stop being a baby,” he scolded, carrying me into the bedroom. “Seriously, I’ve got three kids who are easier to put to bed than you!” I scowled as he deposited me gently on the bed.

“Damage report?” Melanie asked him resignedly.

He shrugged. “Three and a half litres of vodka. She got to the point of double vision, but no puking and no passing out. She might actually get to experience a hangover tomorrow for once in her life, but other than that, I think she’s fine. Physically, anyway.”

Melanie winced.

“I’ll, er, leave you to it,” Clint said hurriedly. He frowned at me sternly. “You remember what I said!”

I pursed my lips, still scowling, but nodded.

“Here,” Melanie said softly once Clint departed. “Let me help you.” She moved closer to pull off my boots. I hesitated, then laid my hand over hers as she moved to undress me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Melanie sighed and sat down on the bed next to me. “You keep saying that. What are you sorry for?”

“Everything,” I answered, swallowing a lump in my throat. “But right now, for hurting you. Again.” I valiantly fought tears, but the effects of the vodka on top of whatever else my body was struggling to process made it impossible. “I love you, so much, but all I do is hurt you, over and over.”

She sighed again, pulling me gently into her arms. “I guess I didn’t realise how strongly you felt about her,” she said after a while. “I accepted you had a bond with her, that you had feelings for her, but…” Her voice quavered a little. “I never dreamed you felt so strongly you’d try to kill yourself over her.”

I flinched as her arms gripped me possessively, feeling the terrible pain and fear she grappled with. “I’m sorry,” I whispered again. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I was out of my mind. I never meant to hurt you. I would do anything to take it back.”

She drew a deep breath, and her arms relaxed. “Then talk to me,” she murmured. “Tell me what’s going on in your head. Help me understand.” She stroked my hair tenderly. “If I can’t heal the pain you’re feeling, then let me share it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” I squeezed my eyes shut, ashamed. I wanted her, so badly it hurt, and despised myself for it. It was selfish and despicable of me to expect her to comfort me while I wallowed in despair over another woman. “It’s not fair.”

She laughed quietly, with a bitter edge to the sound. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you? Life isn’t fair. And love is a total bitch.”

“Getting that,” I muttered.

She kissed me lightly on the lips. “But love is also a healer,” she murmured. “And you know what they say, trouble shared is trouble halved.” She lifted my hand so that my ring sparkled in the lamp light. “We agreed last night to spend the rest of our lives together. In sickness and in health and all the rest. Whatever pains you, pains me too.”

I flinched again. “Maybe you might want to rethink your choices,” I said bleakly. “Because I don’t see my life getting any less painful anytime soon.”

She scowled and pushed me away so she could glare into my face. “Don’t be stupid,” she said crossly. “You’re afraid I’m going to leave you, is that it? It’s like a broken record with you! I didn’t leave you after your demonic tantrum, I didn’t leave you after you first told me about Tanya. Why would I leave you now, just because it turns out she’s the maniac that breathed new life into Hydra? What the hell was killing yourself going to achieve? You were afraid I would leave you so you decided to leave me first, is that it?” Her voice rose rapidly as every sentence increased her distress.

“What? No!” I back-peddled, blindly trying to distance myself from her accusations. “I wasn’t trying to leave you! I was trying to save you! Save everyone!”

That stopped her in her tracks. Her mouth fell open, and she stared at me in genuine bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I’m cursed!” I felt my fists clench in sudden anger. “There’s something _wrong_ with me, Mel! I bring nothing but pain and death, everywhere I go, no matter how hard I try not to! I can’t even get love right! I had you, and it was perfect, and then I had to mess it all up by falling for another woman! And then I broke _her_ heart, and now _she’s_ an evil mastermind trying to take over the world! Let’s face it, the one good thing I ever did for the world was throw myself off that damn cliff!” Hot tears leaked from beneath my eyelids. “I just wanted to put everything back how it was. I was better off dead. You were better off in Edinburgh, without me. You would never have had to deal with all this. You wouldn’t be at risk of turning evil if you had never met me…”

“Turning _evil_?” Melanie exclaimed incredulously. She stared at me in complete shock. “You’re serious. You really think your _love_ can turn people _evil_?”

“Tanya loved me,” I said bleakly. “And I loved her. But I abandoned her, betrayed her. I broke her heart. She had so much potential, but I ruined her, pushed her over the edge into darkness. And if I can do that to her, how much worse a fate is in store for _you_? I love you so much more!” I felt like I was going to be sick, the anxiety was so intense. My head swam.

Melanie caught me by the arms, steadying me. “Oh Nat, you really are in a muddle,” she sighed with mixed fondness and exasperation. She pressed her palms to the sides of my head, gently forcing me to look at her. “Listen to me, love,” she said, her voice soft and earnest. “You are not cursed. None of this is your fault.”

“But Tanya –“

“Tanya made her own choice,” she interrupted firmly, placing a finger over my lips. “You have no idea what sent her down this path, you don’t know it was because of you, but even if it was, you aren’t responsible for her decisions. But that’s beside the point,” she added, overriding me when I would have protested once more. “What you need to understand right now is this. _I_ have a choice too. You don’t decide for me. You cannot ruin me, or send me into darkness. Even if you break my heart, which you came _very_ close to doing tonight, I will _never_ make the choice that Tanya made. Do you understand?” She kissed me tenderly, tears wetting her own cheeks. “If I lost you, I would be beyond devastated. There would be a hole in my life that nothing could ever fill again. It would be difficult to carry on. But that doesn’t mean it would turn me into some psychotic killer. That’s not who I am. Not even you can change that.”

I swallowed hard, but nodded. “I’m sorry,” I whispered wretchedly.

“I know.” She kissed my lips gently. “And I forgive you. Just don’t ever do anything like that again. I know there is a _lot_ to process right now, but you don’t have to face any of it alone.” She tapped the ring on my finger. “We are one, now and always. Whatever happens, we will face it together, and whatever road we walk, it will be one of _our_ choosing. We might not always make the best decisions, or even the right ones, but they will be _our_ choices, made of our own free will. Not because of fate, or a curse, or bad karma or anything else you think might be haunting you.”

I was silent.

Melanie sighed. “Nat, you’re not a bad person. You’re not being punished.”

“Aren’t I?” I mumbled. “Feels like it to me. I killed so many people, took them away from those who loved them. Now I have to kill someone _I_ love. If that’s not bad karma, tell me what is.”

“It may not come to that,” Melanie argued, echoing Clint’s statement earlier. “We don’t know what will happen. We don’t have to kill her.”

“Don’t we?” I said with bitter anguish. “You realise she’ll know about you? Imagine much she must hate you. She can’t forget, Mel! She can’t get over me, she can’t move on. Everything we did, everything she felt, it will be as fresh to her now as it was then. For nearly twenty years, she’s been living with that pain, and now she knows I’ve got someone else. If she got her hands on you…” I shuddered violently, unable to bear the thought. “You heard Victoria, you heard what she does to people! I can’t let that happen to you.” The pain of my internal conflict felt like it was ripping me in twain. “I have to kill her, so you’ll be safe!”

“What? No!” Melanie exclaimed, horrified. “You are _not_ killing anyone for me! I won’t let you! I forbid it, you hear?”

I shook my head wretchedly. “There’s no other way.”

“There’s always a way,” she argued fiercely. “We’re Avengers, we specialise in the impossible. We’ll find a way, Nat. We’ll find a way to save her. Everything will work out, somehow. I promise.”

I was too spent to argue anymore. She cradled me in her arms, and I laid my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes. For now, at least, I allowed her words to comfort me, allowed myself the luxury of hope. And in her arms, it somehow didn’t seem so far-fetched. She was the Angel. She had worked miracles before, many times. Maybe, just maybe, she was right. Maybe we would find a way. Blessed nothingness descended, freeing me from pain, even if only temporarily.

*****

“It should have ended here you know.”

Snow swirled around me, gusting in little eddies, making hypnotic patterns against the dark night, the shadowy gloom of the enclosed alleyway and the distant orange glow of a streetlamp. Fat snowflakes coated my hair, caught in my eyelashes as I peered through the blizzard, trying to locate the voice.

He stood in the darkest part of the alley, his back to me, bow in hand, like a shadow in his tight black clothing, a sinister silhouette revealed only by the snowflakes settling on his head and shoulders.

“Clint?” I asked uncertainly. I moved closer, my boots squeaking and crunching into the soft powder underfoot.

“It should have ended that day,” he said again. “Don’t you remember?”

Abruptly the scene changed, and he was on his knees at my feet. I was breathing heavily, adrenaline still surging through my veins from the fight that had just taken place, the muzzle of my gun pressed against the back of his head, but there was no emotion in me. No feeling. No regret for the life I was about to take. The man was a threat. He had tried to kill me. He had failed. With failure comes death. My finger curled around the trigger.

He didn’t look up at me, didn’t plead for his life. His gaze was fixed on something a few feet away. That was unusual enough that I hesitated, curiosity making me glance over to see what could hold a man’s attention on the brink of death.

A photograph lay in the snow. It fluttered feebly, the cold wind not strong enough to overcome the weight of the snow that pinned it down at one corner. The same man looked back at me from the photograph, not defeated, but happy, radiant even. He had his arms wrapped around a laughing dark-haired young woman, who in turn clasped a baby to her bosom. The infant wasn’t looking at the camera; he gazed at the man with an adoring smile, one chubby hand reaching out to him. Even with only a small tuft of dark hair, the resemblance to his father was unmistakable.

I saw it so clearly, that sharp, crystal moment. He was a man, with a wife he loved, and a son who would have to grow up without him. Not a weapon. Not a monster. Not like me. I saw what I was, what I had become, what they had made me, and I knew I had lost. If I pulled the trigger, he would still win. Because even dead, he would always have more than I could ever dream of.

Slowly, I lowered the gun. Turned my back. Walked away.

“You wanted me to kill you.”

I paused, not turning. “I expected you to,” I replied tonelessly. “You’re right, it should have ended then. You should have done it. Put me down like the dangerous animal I was.” Abruptly I was on my knees, and he was the one standing over me. I looked up at him, and the emptiness inside was too much to bear. “You should have done it. You should have told me I was better off feeling nothing. You should have put me out of my misery. Death would have been a release. Why didn’t you do it?”

He knelt beside me. “Because you wanted to feel something. You wanted to be better. You were a little girl, lost in the woods, and I found you. I brought you home.”

“Home,” I repeated longingly.

The scene shifted, and I stood on a beach, my bare feet digging into the warm sand. I regarded the squat little cabin with pleasure, proud of the results of my labour. Our new residence might not be as elaborate as the one Melanie’s powers had created, but it was solid. It was more than a shelter from the rain, more than a place to sleep. It was home.

“Nice,” Melanie said behind me. “Pity you had to ruin it.”

A stab of alarm twisted my gut. I spun, but Melanie was nowhere to be seen. I turned back to the cabin, and my eyes widened in horror.

The forest was burning, the trees of our peaceful isle igniting like torches. Monkeys screeched the alarm, and creatures of every shape and size fled as paradise went up in flames. Thick black smoke poured down the mountain, swirled around me like thick fog, choking me.

“You did this. This is all your fault,” a voice whispered.

I spun in circles, desperately seeking a way to quench the flames before they reached the cabin, but I was helpless to prevent the destruction. There was nothing I could do but watch as a shower of sparks fell onto the roof, setting the thatch of dried palm leaves ablaze. In seconds, everything I had built was wreathed in flame.

“No!” I cried in desolation, but it was too late. Then, out of the heart of the fire, a figure emerged. She walked towards me, her willowy figure clad in scintillating green, a green cloak billowing around her, the deep hood covering her hair. Her face was covered by a gold mask.

“Tanya!” I tried to call out, but the searing heat sucked the air right out of my lungs.

She stopped, and gazed at me. Then she reached up and removed the mask.

I recoiled in horror. Hideous burns savaged her face, her flesh hanging from her skull. A lipless mouth grinned at me. Dead, white eyes stared out of cavernous sockets. She moved closer, and the forked tongue of a snake flicked out between her teeth.

“This is all your fault!” she hissed. “Look what you’ve done!”

“NO!”

****

I sat bolt upright, my scream tearing my throat.

“It’s okay, Nat, it’s okay, you’re okay, everyone is okay, it’s just a dream…”

Soft arms enveloped me, and I fought them mindlessly for a moment until Melanie’s voice, and her low and soothing mantra, finally pierced my panic. I collapsed into her arms, shivering uncontrollably, the horrendous vision still hanging before me, refusing to fade. She kissed me on the forehead, rocking me like a frightened child.

“What have I done?” I moaned through chattering teeth.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Melanie said emphatically. “You haven’t done anything, Nat. I keep telling you, none of this is your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself.”

“But Tanya,” I choked brokenly. “I never should have left her. I never should have used that time machine in the first place. None of this would be happening if she and I hadn’t –“

“You don’t know that,” Melanie said firmly. She lit the lamps with a gesture, banishing the darkness, illuminating the comfortingly unthreatening cream walls and soft furnishings of our private quarters. I tried to ground myself in the familiar surroundings, calm the racing of my heart. The clock on the bedside table said three am.

“You don’t know what would have happened,” Melanie insisted soothingly. “It’s not your fault.”

I shook my head miserably. “I was all she had,” I whispered. “Her love for me was all that kept her sane… and she thinks I betrayed her. And that mask!” I shuddered in horror, seeing again the hideous vision my dreaming mind had conjured. “God, what did they do to her? They must have punished her, done horrific things to her…”

“Not necessarily,” Melanie cut in again firmly. She stroked my hair, trying to soothe my agitation. “There are other reasons to wear a mask, love, than simply to hide disfigurement. Even if that is the reason she wears it, it doesn’t automatically follow that it was something done to her because of you. Think about it logically; if she had been punished as severely as all that, is it likely she would have been allowed to climb the ranks? She couldn’t have come out of nowhere; to take over the whole organisation, even _with_ a power vacuum at the top thanks to Thanos, she had to have had some kind of authority and influence already. Do you really think men like Goravitch and Skuler would have followed her if she was nobody?”

My thoughts still whirling, I tried to regain some composure and think about it rationally. Her logic was impeccable, but it did nothing to ease the heavy weight of guilt that sat like a slab of stone in my gut.

“It’s still my fault,” I said in despair. “She had so much potential… I wanted to save her, give her a chance to be a power for good… and instead I ruined her, created a monster! Everything she’s done, everything that’s happening… Cho, the Wakandans, all those people in Alaska, the poor sods who are being tortured right now… it’s all on me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Melanie said briskly. “Did you fire the missiles that killed T’Challa’s people? Did you pull out a gun and shoot those people in Alaska? Did you raid the Genetic Research Lab in Seoul and kidnap Cho? No, of course you didn’t. Snap out of it, love. You are not to blame for what Tanya has chosen to become. Alright, you may have broken her heart –“

“ _Broken_ it?” I choked. “I might as well have ripped it out of her chest and stamped it into the mud!”

“Even so,” Melanie continued doggedly, “that’s hardly an adequate excuse for her actions. Heartbreak is part of life, love, everyone goes through it, but most people manage to get through it without becoming sadistic, power-hungry supervillains!” I flinched. “And besides,” she continued forcefully, “you don’t _know_ that’s what set her off down this path. We have no idea what could have happened to her in the last nineteen years, but at the end of the day, she chose to become what she is. You gave her an opportunity to walk away; if you were the only thing that mattered to her, why didn’t she leave? Why didn’t she come looking for you? She knew you had defected, she could have done the same, but she didn’t.”

“I suppose,” I muttered unwillingly.

She sighed. “The truth is, you want it to be your fault. You _want_ there to be an excuse for her behaviour. You don’t want to believe that the girl you cared about so deeply could have made a conscious choice to become evil.”

I shuddered again, struggling to breathe through the searing ache in my chest. I knew she was right. I didn’t want to believe Tanya was acting of her own free will, that she had _chosen_ Hydra. I wanted, desperately, for there to be some justification for what she had become… and in my heart, I knew there was none. If I was honest, I had always known that a profound darkness lay within the girl I loved. I had sensed it, been discomforted by it, more than once, but I had chosen to ignore it. I had preferred to believe that her dark side was simply a product of the Red Room, that her ability to love overruled it, made her inherently good… and I had been wrong. Tragically, heart-breakingly wrong.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered brokenly. “I’m so sorry. I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish I had never felt anything for Tanya at all…”

“Well I don’t,” Melanie replied, so decisively that I raised my head, shocked.

“You… you don’t?”

“No.” She smiled at my astonishment, then her face became serious again. “Nat, I know better than anyone how hard it was for you, going back to the Red Room. You told me yourself that you felt it getting a hold on you, that you felt like you were losing yourself. If you had felt nothing, you might have succumbed to that darkness again. Your love for Tanya was what saved you. It might be messed up, but the fact that you could find compassion, find love, even in that darkest of places… it’s one of the things I love most about you. Tanya is the reason Natasha Romanoff survived to come back to me. I will always be grateful to her for that.”

I blinked owlishly, then shook my head, feeling utterly confused. “I don’t understand you. Sometimes I think you really must be an angel after all. How could any mere mortal be so forgiving? It’s not natural.”

She rolled her eyes fondly. “You’re just tired. Why don’t we go back to sleep? We can deal with whatever comes next in the morning.” She kissed me gently. “I know it feels like your world has ended, but I promise, we will get through this, Nat. Together.” She looked suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry you had to give up your command. We should never have expected you to be able to just cope and carry on. But I was so sure it was what was best for you…”

I held her closer. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You did the right thing. I wanted to stay, and it meant everything to me that you all wanted me to. It’s my fault. I thought I could handle it, I really did, right up until I realised it was Tanya…” I reflexively curled up, the pain folding me in half again. Melanie wrapped her arms around me tightly, holding my shuddering body together.

“I don’t know what to do,” I choked into her shoulder, hating how pathetic I sounded. “It’s like I’m being pulled in two directions, and its tearing me in half, ripping me into pieces…”

“Hey, shhhh,” she crooned soothingly. “Of course it hurts, but you’ll get through it. In time, I promise, this pain will fade. It will leave a scar, but you have plenty of those already.” Her fingertips lightly traced over some of the marks the past had left on my body. “These were all painful at the time, but they don’t hurt any more, do they?”

“No,” I conceded unwillingly.

“And neither will this,” she murmured comfortingly. “It might take longer; just like soft tissue injuries take longer to heal than broken bones, wounds of the heart and mind take longest to mend. You have a lot of those wounds right now; you’ve been battling on, ignoring them in the heat of the fight, but now they are all catching up to you. This isn’t about Tanya, not really; she’s just the flesh wound that made you realise how deep all those other lesions go. But if you stop trying to ignore them, stop fighting for long enough to let them heal, you’ll be stronger for it. And one day, you’ll be able to touch those scars without pain.”

Her analogy made sense, and it calmed me. After all, how many times had I done exactly that? Taken a hit but fought on regardless, and only when the battle was over realised how badly I’d been wounded, and how much it hurt. But now, like Melanie said, I could touch the scars, and remember the events that caused them, without pain. It helped. It helped a lot. I relaxed a little, snuggling deeper into her embrace, profoundly grateful for her presence.

“And my shadow?” I asked after a while, though my eyelids were drooping again. “You really think I’ll be able to get a handle on that too?”

“Hmmm?” Melanie started, having almost dozed off. “Oh, yes, of course.” She smiled drowsily. “You forget, I’ve been through this. My powers manifested just as suddenly and catastrophically as yours, and I had to deal with being most-of-the-way vanished on top. I had five years to deal with that trauma, while I was floating around as a collection of atoms. Once I did, and once I got my body back, I was able to gain conscious control, and now look what I can do! I thought my powers were a curse in the beginning, but now… I’m not sure I would give them up, even if I could. I can do so much good… and so will you. When you get this under control, you’ll be better than ever. You’ll have a whole new way to save the world.” She smiled, kissing me lightly on the nose. “You’ll be magnificent.”

“You think so?” I murmured wonderingly.

“I know so,” she said with conviction.

Comforted, I laid my head back on the pillow, my eyelids closing of themselves.

“And you’ll stay with me?” I mumbled sleepily. “You promise?”

“Always.” She cuddled close, and stroked my back. “Sleep, my love,” she murmured. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

****

Whether Melanie’s words had finally made an impression, or I had simply reached a point of such overwhelming exhaustion that my brain could no longer torment me, there were no more horrifying dreams. When I finally awoke, Melanie refused to allow me to get up, delivering me an enormous breakfast fit for at least six people that she insisted I ate in bed. Though I loudly professed disgust, secretly I was slightly relieved. My head felt like the inside of a football stadium. Was this normal for a hangover? If it was, I immediately and unreservedly apologised for every mean thing I had ever said to Clint, and Melanie, and countless others the morning after the night before. This was terrible! I felt like I was going to puke, or pass out, I wasn’t sure which. My head felt likely to explode any second like an over-ripe pumpkin.

The substantial breakfast did help a little, as did several large cups of strong coffee. I was polishing off the last of the toast, and starting to feel like maybe I wasn’t about to die after all, when Maria turned up.

“No don’t get up,” she stalled me, as I pushed the breakfast tray aside and threw the covers back.

“I’m not sick,” I complained crossly. “I don’t need to stay in bed like some sort of invalid!”

“You need to rest,” Maria said firmly, “and you won’t do that if you get up. We need you to stay calm.”

“I am calm!”

She raised an eyebrow.

Melanie sighed from the other side of the room. “Nat,” she said simply, glancing pointedly at my hands. Looking down, I realised my fists were clenched so tightly on the hem of the quilt I was in danger of tearing it. I swallowed, and with an effort, relaxed my grip. Unwillingly, I settled back against the pillows, twitching the covers irritably back into place.

“Better,” Maria said approvingly.

“Whatever,” I muttered sourly. “Now can you please tell me what’s happening? Where are we on the search for the Hydra base? Did you manage to define a search area based on Viktoria’s information? Can we get anything on satellite imaging? Maybe if we correlate the unidentified vessel radar sightings with –“

“Nat, _stop_!” Maria threw up her hands in exasperation. “Right now, those things are for me to worry about, not you. I didn’t come to discuss Hydra, I came to tell you what’s going to happen with you.”

I stared at her, taken aback by her tone. “You can’t seriously expect to keep me in the dark,” I exclaimed, suddenly both outraged and desperate. “You have to keep me in the loop, Maria, I have to know, I have to help!”

“And you will,” Maria said firmly. “By cooperating, and doing as you’re told, so you can get better and back in the fight as quickly as possible.”

“Sod that!” I furiously threw back the covers again. “I’m getting back in the fight right now!”

Maria sighed. “Friday,” she said in clear, resigned tones. “Immobilise Natasha Romanoff.”

“Certainly, Commander,” came Friday’s cool, precise voice. To my astonishment and fury, I was suddenly encased in a blue light from head to toe, and unable to move a muscle. Caught halfway through the motion of hurling myself out of bed, I was unable to prevent myself keeling over, landing in a most undignified position with my face half-buried in the carpet.

“Damn it!” I let loose a stream of expletives from the floor. Or at least I meant to; however the containment field made it impossible to even move my lips, so that what came out was a lot of garbled, angry hissing noises like a demented goose.

Maria looked pained. “Nat, I don’t want to do this, so please be reasonable.” She bent and, not unkindly, lifted my paralysed form and rolled me back onto the bed.

“Now, if I take this off, will you promise to stay calm? Grunt once for yes, twice for no.”

I grunted.

“All right. Friday, release her.”

“Yes Commander.”

The blue light vanished.

I groaned involuntarily in relief as my limbs unlocked. Glaring down at my wrists, I saw what I had been too distracted by my hangover to notice prior to this; the simple health monitor I had been wearing before had been replaced by a silvery bangle identical to the one Viktoria wore. The security bracelet Shuri had devised, that allowed us to immobilise her if she became a threat, and confine her to any part of the building we chose. I cast a glare across the room at my fiancé, who grimaced shame-facedly.

“Don’t be mad at Mel,” Maria intervened before I could open my mouth. She crossed her arms, regarding me sternly. “You brought this on yourself, Nat. You broke the terms of your agreement. If we can’t trust you to keep to the safety precautions, we have no choice but to enforce them.”

I glowered, but I couldn’t fault her argument. I knew I would have done the same. “You can’t keep me prisoner,” I said harshly. “I’m sorry, okay, I know I messed up, but you can’t keep me locked up. I have to help find that base. Tanya is my mistake, she’s my responsibility.”

“No-one’s keeping you prisoner,” Maria said calmly. “But you need to understand, I can’t have you roaming around the base right now.”

“But –“

“But nothing.” Maria was firm. “You’ve become a liability, Nat. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality. This whole situation is an emotional minefield of potential triggers for you, and we need to be focussed on neutralising the Hydra threat, not chasing you all over the compound! Your presence is a distraction and a waste of resources that we can’t afford right now.”

I stared at her, trembling. I couldn’t deny that she was correct on all points, but the implications devastated me.

Maria’s expression softened. She looked at me with pity, and a little shame. “You need help,” she said more gently. “Help we don’t have the means or expertise to give you, no matter how much we want to. I’m sorry, I thought we were doing the right thing keeping you in command. You’re so damn good at what you do, I couldn’t imagine anything would stop you… but I guess we’re all guilty of forgetting you’re human. No human can be expected to cope with this level of trauma and carry on regardless, and it was wrong of us to expect it of you. You need time and space and _help_ to deal with everything that’s happened to you, and to learn to control your,” she glanced at my shadow with a peculiar expression, “well, control whatever it is you do, and you can’t get any of that here. I’m sorry, but for everyone’s sake, we have to get you somewhere far away from here.”

“No,” I croaked, horrified. “No, you can’t! I _have_ to be here, I have to fix this!” I was frantic; if they sent me away, how could I fix the mess I had made? How could I protect them from the backlash of my mistakes? How could I protect _Melanie_? The thought of her facing off against Tanya, while I remained locked away in some hidden place with no way to get to her, made my pulse skyrocket.

“Calm down,” Melanie instructed hastily, moving to sit on the bed beside me and pulling me into her arms. “I won’t leave you. I promise, I’m not going anywhere without you.” She cast a pointed glance at Maria, who rolled her eyes.

“I doubt an army of hell-beasts would keep you two apart, so I’m sure as hell not going to try,” she replied resignedly. She refocused on me, and her expression softened again. “I know how hard this is for you, Nat. No-one wants you to feel like we don’t want you here anymore; of course we want you, we _need_ you, but we need you stable and clearheaded, and right now you fulfil none of those requirements. The faster you recover, the faster you can be back in action. But if you want to stay on the team, you have to follow orders. _My_ orders, since you so kindly dropped this gig back on me. And right now, I’m ordering you to trust me. Trust that I know how to do my job, and that I will take every step necessary to find that base.” She waited expectantly for that to sink in.

I pursed my lips, still angry, but also a little ashamed. Of course she didn’t need me to tell her how to go about searching for an enemy stronghold. She had been doing it just as long as I had.

She seemed satisfied. “Now, provided you can keep yourself stable, I’m more than happy to keep you in the loop. You know I value your advice, and I’m counting on you to help us find a way to neutralise Viper without killing her. No-one wants to have to be the one to do that.”

I flinched.

“So to that end,” Maria continued doggedly, “I’m setting up a special unit, with the sole task of getting _you_ back up and running. Shuri is in charge of the project; she’s already on her way back to Wakanda to make all the arrangements. As soon as she tells me she’s ready, Mel will take you there.”

“Wakanda,” I said tonelessly. “You’re sending me to Wakanda.”

“They have the technology and expertise we lack,” Maria confirmed, nodding. “You were going to go there for treatment anyway, now you’ll just be going through a more intense regime. Hopefully Shuri’s expert will be able to help you conquer your PTSD, and at the same time, Shuri will be helping you uncover more about your new abilities, and how to control them.”

I looked questioningly at Melanie.

“I’m going too,” she told me reassuringly. “Bruce as well.”

“I thought it would be best to keep our science division all in one place,” Maria explained with a faint smile, “and they can work just as effectively from Shuri’s lab as they can here. Probably more so. Her lab is a lot more advanced than ours.” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Bruce is ecstatic. He can’t wait to play with all Shuri’s toys.”

I choked an unwilling laugh. “I bet.” I regarded her, struggling for words, my frustration warring with intense gratitude for the effort everyone was putting into this, into _me_ , despite the fact I little deserved it.

“Of course you deserve it,” Maria contradicted me gently, seeing the self-loathing fill my eyes. “We’re your friends, Nat. Your family. It doesn’t matter what you did. Yes, we were angry with you, but we still forgive you, and we’ll do everything in our power to support you.” She squeezed my shoulder a little self-consciously; Maria was as uncomfortable with overt displays of affection as I was. “Now rest up,” she said briskly, turning to leave. “You’ve got some serious work ahead, and you need to be ready. If you _must_ leave your bed, then get busy packing up what you and Mel want to take with you. I’ll have it sent in the quinjet with Bruce and Viktoria.”

“Viktoria?” I glanced between them quizzically, taken aback. “She’s coming too?”

“Hell yes,” Maria replied emphatically. “She’s a Red Room graduate too; I want her somewhere more secure than our residence wing, and considering what you went through, I want her to have a full psychological assessment before we even consider turning her loose. The last thing we need is _another_ psychopath to chase down! Shuri’s expert will be seeing her as well.”

My brows rose, but I had to concede she was probably right. Viktoria didn’t seem at all unbalanced, but who knew what hidden nasties lurked in her subconscious? Red Room graduates did have a higher than average likelihood of harbouring pathological tendencies. Maria’s precautions were probably wise.

Shuri’s preparations took a surprisingly short time; I had only had to stew for two more days, pacing my quarters like a caged lion, before the summons came.

Melanie went ahead to approve the accommodation and familiarise herself with the location so that she could transport me directly inside, minimising any contact with civilians. Within the hour she was back, pronouncing herself satisfied.

“Ready?” she asked, holding out her hand to me.

I made a disgruntled noise, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and reluctantly took her hand. The others had all gathered in my room to say goodbye, much to my embarrassment. Only Bruce, Shuri and Bucky were missing. Bucky of course, had gone with Shuri, and Bruce had left by quinjet the day before, escorting a thoroughly resentful Viktoria, and was no doubt already making himself at home in Shuri’s lab.

“It’ll be fine,” Wanda said encouragingly. “You can do this.”

“Totally,” Pepper agreed.

“Not even a question,” Clint said, smiling.

“And don’t worry,” Sam added, mock punching me in the shoulder, “Rhodey and I will come up with a sweet new nickname for you while you’re gone.” He grinned as everyone laughed at the look on my face. “Hey, you have all new super-powers. You’ve transcended Black Widow, now you’re… _Shadow_!” He gestured dramatically like a magician making a big reveal.

“That’s the name of someone’s dog,” Rhodes said scornfully. “It needs more punch. Maybe – Shadow _Warrior_! Or _Phantom_!”

“Terminator – she’s a time travelling killing machine!”

“Mel,” Maria cut in firmly, casting them an exasperated look. “For god’s sake get her out of here, before the boys traumatise her even more!”

“Yes, Commander,” she said, grinning. She knew I didn’t really mind the teasing. I knew they weren’t serious about a new name, it was their way of showing me they had forgiven me. “Later guys.”

I opened my mouth to say goodbye, but the words were lost in the blinding flash of gold. Blinking, I looked around.

“Home sweet home,” Shuri said brightly, greeting me in the centre of my new quarters.

I scowled. A quick glance around showed me the room was large and surprisingly comfortable, if spartan. An enormous bed dominated one side, and opposite lay a small kitchenette, complete with coffee machine and kettle. Rugs, sofas and cushions softened the otherwise austere look of the room, except in the far corner, where a small training space had been set up with floor mats, a punchbag and treadmill. A screened-off area opposite was presumably the bathroom. The walls were a blinding white that inspired an immediate headache, and textured with a strange, unfamiliar pattern.

“Specially reinforced polycarbonate vibranium alloy,” Shuri said proudly, as I approached the nearest wall to examine it more closely. “Stronger than anything on the planet. I’ve had Bruce test it already, even _he_ can’t put a dent in it! And look here.” She moved to a blank door with no discernible handle, and placed a hand on a pad beside the door. It slid open, and I caught a glimpse of nondescript hallway before she removed her hand and the door slid shut again.

“The pad reads your DNA,” Shuri explained happily. “And its programmed so only me, Mel, Bruce, Okoye and T’Challa can open that door. Even in your worst paddy, you’re not getting out of this room.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. This was real. I was trapped in here. There was no way to get out. Rarely in my life had I been in this position, where there was truly no escape, and those occasions were all branded into my mind. Thoughts intruded on my consciousness; visions of being handcuffed to a bed in a chill dormitory; of being strapped to a gurney while my blood boiled in my veins; of being chained to a wall while rough men laughed and did what they pleased with my broken body... The walls suddenly felt like they were closing in on me. I was trapped in a box! My eyes searched wildly, but this room was impregnable, and devoid of any context to orient myself. I only had their word that I was even in Wakanda. This room could be anywhere, in the middle of a desert, under the sea, down a mine, surrounded by the vacuum of space…

“Ah, Shuri?” Melanie said urgently, as I started to choke, my throat closing. I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating in here! “Can we give her some air please!”

“Oops!” Shuri hurriedly tapped a few controls on the small tablet she held, and a large section of wall between the bed and bathroom dissolved. The room was suddenly flooded with sunlight through the newly integrated window, as well as the faint noise of people and traffic from the city outside. Shuri tapped again, and I felt a gust of warm, fragrant air hit my face, and the noise level markedly increased.

The effect was immediate. The grip of claustrophobia lessened, and I gulped in oxygen, the walls no longer pressing in on me. Melanie gently steered me closer to the window, and I leaned out in heartfelt relief. It seemed this room was in one of the tallest buildings, in the centre of the city. The height didn’t bother me, I looked down with interest at the wide boulevard below, lined with trees and flowerbeds, and people bustling about like ants. Wakanda might be more advanced than anywhere I had ever visited, might have crazy vehicles swooping in and out of the spaces between buildings like something out of a sci-fi movie, but it was still a city full of people, going about their business, and the familiar pulse of life steadied me. I wasn’t locked away in a box, lost and forgotten. I was in Wakanda, among people I loved and trusted. Nothing horrific was going to happen; this room was just a room. A comfortable, perfectly acceptable room that Melanie and I would both call home while we were here.

“Sorry,” I said awkwardly, pulling back from the window and turning back to Shuri, red-faced at my overreaction. “I, ah, don’t like it when I can’t get out. Bad things tend to happen.”

Shuri looked contrite. “My bad. I should have known better.” She cleared her throat. “Well, hopefully this will help. Here.” She handed me the tablet. “This button controls the window,” she explained, pointing. “Tap once to open the shutter, and again to open the window itself. Don’t worry, all windows above a certain height have safety precautions built-in, if you fell out for any reason, a containment field would catch you and prevent you falling to your death. So keep the window open if you want, it won’t compromise security. These buttons here are climate controls, see you can adjust the temperature and humidity and so on. These are for the entertainment system, and these are your communications controls. You’re in quarantine, not a prisoner, your friends can visit you whenever you want using our hard-light holo-system.” She grinned. “Way better than your outdated sub-light model.”

I nodded, managing a faint smile. “Thanks,” I said gruffly, grateful for the effort she had put into ensuring my comfort, and for giving me what control she could without compromising my containment. Then I scowled, pointing at a rectangular mirror set into the wall. “But that better not be what I think it is. I don’t care about security; Mel and I want privacy, not to fulfil the voyeuristic fantasies of half the king’s guard!”

Shuri rolled her eyes, vaguely offended. “Will you relax? It’s just a mirror! No funny business, I assure you. The aim is to keep you away from hapless civilians, not to violate your privacy. There are no cameras in here, no hidden surveillance to spy on you and Mel, I promise.”

I nodded grudgingly. I was still going to search the place from top to bottom as soon as she left. “So how will you know if I go off on one?” I asked suspiciously.

“This,” Shuri explained, removing the security bracelet from my wrist and clamping another, slightly chunkier one in its place. “It’s a highly sophisticated version of that health monitor you were wearing until you shredded it. It will measure your vitals at all times, and send a constant stream to a dedicated server. If your heart rate gets too high, it will automatically trigger an alarm. Unnaturally high,” she clarified hastily, seeing my expression change. Her lips twitched. “The data we managed to retrieve last time showed your heart rate was off the charts during your episode. Way higher than it would go if you were just working out or,” she gave a slight cough, “anything else you might get up to.”

Melanie laughed, her cheeks a little pink. “Good to know,” she said lightly, giving me a surreptitious pinch to remind me to mind my manners. “So what now? When does Nat meet with your expert?”

“Soon,” Shuri assured us. “He’s just getting up to speed with your biography.” She cast me an apologetic look. “Not normal procedure, but I thought, under the circumstances, it would be best if he had as much information about you as possible; it would take far too long for you to tell him everything otherwise, and time is of the essence.”

I nodded slowly, unsure how I felt about that. The knowledge that I wouldn’t have to relate my entire history, or experience his initial reactions to it, came as something of a relief, but it also increased my trepidation. The thought of meeting someone for the first time who was already aware of every horrible thing I had ever done or endured was not appealing.

“It will be fine,” Melanie reassured me softly. “Remember, he’s here to help you. He’s a therapist, he doesn’t judge, he listens.”

“Whatever,” I muttered uncomfortably. Her words only increased my reluctance; if he was here to listen, that meant I had to talk, something I wasn’t remotely interested in doing. I looked back at Shuri. “Will he be coming here, or do I go to him?” I asked. I hoped she would say the latter. It would be a pity to destroy this room, after all the effort she had taken to make it comfortable, and if I went to him, at least that meant I could _leave_ this place for a while. I already felt like I had been imprisoned in here longer than I could stand.

“You go to him,” she confirmed. “Through that door,” she pointed to another door that blended so perfectly with the wall that I hadn’t noticed it, “leads to your treatment space that I had custom-built within one of my labs. Don’t worry,” she continued firmly as my expression turned furious again, “you and the doctor will be completely alone. The Cube has complete soundproofing and vision-cancelling functionality. Nobody will be watching or listening while you talk to him, the only data I’ll be getting is the stream from your wrist monitor, like always. But if you _do_ get triggered, it will automatically sound an alarm, and I can then return visuals and sound to the Cube, allowing me to observe and record your episode with every instrument I can point at it. The more data we can gather, the more we’ll find out about how this strange ability of yours works. So don’t hold back,” she finished cheerfully. “Dig in and let it all out.”

I resisted the urge to throttle her. “I assume you’ve put something in place so I can’t murder the good doctor?” I said sarcastically.

“Of course,” she answered brightly. “That was easy; it’s a simple energy barrier. The same one that surrounds the city in fact.”

“You mean the one that the man-eating aliens were getting through?” I demanded waspishly.

Shuri looked put out. Evidently the fact that her shield had not been _completely_ successful in keeping out the attackers, though it had blocked the majority, was still a sore point with her. “I’ve upgraded it since then,” she said crossly. “Nothing is getting through that barrier now, alien or not. I guarantee it. So worry not, white girl, the doctor is as safe in there with you as he is in his own bed.”

Melanie smothered a laugh behind her hand.

“Great,” I muttered sourly. “Perfect.”

Shuri grinned. “Well, I guess that’s everything for now. You two settle in. Mel, you know where the lab is, head over whenever you’re ready. Nat, when the doctor is ready for you, that light will turn green,” she pointed to a panel over the door. “Just go right on through when that happens.”

“She will,” Melanie replied hastily, before I could give voice to any of the myriad insulting responses that were on the tip of my tongue. “Thanks, Shuri. See you later.”

With a little wave, Shuri disappeared through the door, which sealed shut behind her.

Melanie gave me a light smack. “Play nice,” she admonished me sternly. “They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to help you, you could at least show a little gratitude.”

I snorted. “I doubt the lab rats have much gratitude for the ones keeping them caged, no matter how good their intentions are.”

“You’re not a lab rat,” Melanie replied calmly, refusing to rise to my bait. “And this is not a cage. I think it’s quite nice, personally.” She left my side to sit on the bed, bouncing experimentally. “Comfy,” she said approvingly. She smiled suggestively. “Care to join me?”

I cast my eyes heavenward, but dutifully sat on the bed beside her. She was right, it was comfy, the mattress deep and springy, the coverings soft to touch.

“There, see,” she murmured, her arms stealing around me. “There’s no need to be grumpy.” Her smile widened, and she deliberately tugged open my top button. “I know what will put a smile back on your face,” she whispered, capturing my lips with hers.

“Mel,” I tried to resist, feeling uncomfortable in these new surroundings. I hadn’t even had a chance to sweep for surveillance devices yet. “I’m not really in the mood.”

“Aren’t you?” she asked innocently. Her hand slid beneath my clothing, and I choked. “Are you sure?”

“No,” I whispered, shuddering with unwilling pleasure as she pushed me down and straddled me. Her hand, deep inside my pants, cupped my mound; with a swift push, she had two fingers inside me.

“How about now?” she asked archly, leaning down to nuzzle my neck.

My only reply was a moan as her fingers unerringly hit the perfect spot. “Damn it, Mel,” I whispered. I stubbornly tried to resist for a moment longer, but I was fighting a losing battle. She knew my body so well by now, she knew exactly what to do, exactly what physical signals would override my brain and send me headlong into passion regardless of my mood. She pushed those buttons now, and with a swiftness I would look back on with embarrassment later, my brain gave up, catapulted abruptly into burning desire. Without ever consciously making the decision to do so, my hands were feverishly undressing her, my mouth seeking her lips, her neck, her breasts. Her fingers remained inside me, working their magic, sometimes slow and sensual, sometimes hard and fast; she refused to disengage even to remove my clothing, helping me fight my way free of the restricting garments with her free hand. In the end, I only managed to partially remove my trousers; I gave up once one leg was free, too lost in the rhythm of our passion to care about the other. In the back of my mind, I found myself wishing we had had time to look into acquiring a few accessories; having her inside me felt so good, it reminded me of Tanya, and Doris, and how good it had felt to be filled completely. I wished I could experience that with Melanie, feel the exquisite pleasure of her plunging into me, hear her cries of delight ring out in time with mine. My heat rising as I imagined it, I shifted position so I could reach her, and she moaned joyfully as I found her pleasure centre and joined her rhythm. Our passion took on a life of its own, steadily increasing the tempo, our bodies becoming one organism, single-minded in pursuit of that moment of purest pleasure. Without warning it came, for me first, then her a moment later. With a sigh of satisfaction, I relaxed, and felt her do the same, leaving us in a heap of tangled limbs on the bed. I gently pushed my way into her depths, wanting to feel part of her, as she was still part of me. Melanie smiled contentedly, and I knew she felt the same. I loved that she didn’t immediately withdraw. This dreamlike interval right after our lovemaking was almost my favourite part; I loved the feeling of being one, of being physically connected, while we drowsed in the delightful after-glow of our pleasures. It made me feel whole. Complete. Although it soured my contentment somewhat to realise that I had experienced the same feeling with Tanya as well.

Stricken by a sudden feeling of guilt and shame, I gently disengaged and sat up.

“What’s wrong?” Melanie asked softly.

“Nothing,” I muttered. I retrieved my clothing and began pulling it back on. “I have an appointment with the doctor, don’t forget. I imagine he’d prefer it if I was dressed when I meet him.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Melanie drawled mischievously. “It might break the ice.” She sat up and put her arms around me, resting her chin on my shoulder. “I thought I might have improved your mood at least a little,” she said wistfully.

I sighed. “You did. You always do,” I said softly, rubbing my cheek against hers. “I’m just… out of sorts.” I sighed again. “I hate this. I hate that I can’t control myself. I hate that I’m stuck in here. I hate that I have to go in _there_ and tell some stranger all the horrible things that ever happened to me.” Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them back resolutely, unwilling to face the doctor red-eyed from crying. “I hate that I can’t protect you.”

“Since when do you need to protect me?” Melanie scoffed.

“I saved you from being dissected!” I snapped.

“And I saved you from an equally gruesome death by splat,” she pointed out with thoroughly Scottish directness. “We’re even. Equals. As it should be.” She kissed me fiercely. “You don’t need to worry about me, love. You trained me well, I can take care of myself. And we will take care of each other.”

The panel above the door in the corner suddenly pinged, turning bright green.

“But right now, as you say, you have an appointment,” she said resignedly. She pulled a face. “And I should be getting to the lab. Bruce can’t be expected to solve the mysteries of vibranium mutation all by himself.”

“Good luck with that,” I said, pulling on my boots. “I wish I could come with you. I’d almost rather spend the afternoon fiddling with petri dishes than walk through that door.”

“Wow,” Melanie feigned astonishment. “You really must not want to go in there! You hate petri dishes.”

“With a deep and deadly passion,” I agreed, wrinkling my nose in revulsion. “Nasty plastic things full of germs. I have no idea why you like playing around with them so much.”

She laughed. “Well, as I have no idea why you like playing with weapons, we’re even.” She gave me a quick kiss on the nose. “Again.”

I swatted her. “Get along with you. Go save the world one petri dish at a time. And for god’s sake put some clothes on first,” I added, facing the door and squaring my shoulders. “You’ll startle Bruce into breaking something expensive if you turn up like that. He gets ridiculously flustered when women show a little skin.”

“Well you should know,” Melanie said wickedly. “Did he get flustered when you showed him yours?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Extremely.”

Melanie laughed. “Love you,” she murmured, sneaking one last kiss. Then she gave me a little push towards the door. “Now go fix yourself, so we can go save the world together, and live happily ever after.”

“Amen to that,” I agreed. Taking a deep breath, I strode forward resolutely. The unassuming metal door slid open automatically as I approached, and closed again behind me.


	13. 13.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out trying to kill your therapist can actually be helpful. Who knew?

The view was even more stunning from this angle.

I stood before a wall of glass, looking out over the city of Wakanda. The surrounding hills were a lush green against the backdrop of the cloudless sky, a blue that was reflected perfectly in the lake that stretched away to the horizon. The watchful presence of the huge panther in the distance gave the whole scene a feeling of unreality, like I had been transported to a fabulous fantasy world.

With a sigh, I turned away from the beauty outside, acutely aware of the quiet figure who waited patiently across the room. Avoiding his gaze, I instead examined, for the hundredth time, the faintly shimmering curtain of energy that cut the room in half, separating me from the man ensconced in the comfortable armchair on the other side. The barrier seemed as intangible as heat-haze, and yet made no sound, which for some reason irritated me. I felt like something so powerful should make a noise, a hum or a buzz maybe, but it was totally silent. Ludicrously insignificant next to all the other worries crowding into my brain, that tiny detail bothered me like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

“I _am_ sorry about these arrangements,” the doctor said apologetically.

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Necessary precautions and all that.” I still didn’t meet his eyes, my discomfort obvious.

I sensed rather than saw his understanding smile. I caught myself fidgeting and forced myself to stillness, but still couldn’t bring myself to sit in the identical chair provided for me on my side. L’Mak watched me with no sign of impatience that his newest patient was so reluctant to begin.

I was still a little bemused by the appearance of Shuri’s ‘expert’. I had never met a shrink before, and wasn’t sure what I had expected, but L’Mak was not it. He was tiny, shorter than me by more than a head, his feet dangling off the floor as he sat in his chair. He wore large round spectacles that made his eyes seem overly large for his face, which combined with his height would have made him seem a child, except the effect was negated by a bushy black beard. In his outlandish clothing, he looked like he had walked straight off the set of Lord of the Rings. His English was impeccable, his grammar certainly far more correct than mine, and his twinkling brown eyes were kind as he surveyed me thoughtfully.

“This is very difficult for you, isn’t it,” he said sympathetically.

I managed not to roll my eyes with an effort, not dignifying the question with an answer. ‘Difficult’ was not the word I would have chosen to describe this situation. ‘Impossible’, ‘intolerable’ and ‘excruciating’ were near the top of my list of alternatives, along with ‘humiliating’ and ‘downright unbearable’.

I looked once more out of the window that formed one entire side of the Cube, grateful for its presence. Without that wonderful vista outside, I was sure I would have freaked out again; the Cube was, if possible, even more impregnable than my quarters, and far more prison-like, it’s only furnishings those two chairs, one on either side of the barrier. A sensible precaution, considering what was likely to happen, but one that did not inspire relaxation. Without the window, the feeling of being trapped in a box would have been overwhelming. The other three walls were currently blanked out to an innocuous cream colour, but I was acutely aware of the lab full of bustling activity on the other side. Despite the fact that I knew they could neither see nor hear me at the moment, that the only data they were getting was the constant stream from the monitor on my wrist, I still felt like I was back in the goldfish bowl. My skin crawled, imagining all the eyes fixated on those walls, waiting for me to crack, waiting for the moment when the alarm would sound and the walls would turn clear and reveal the monster I had become…

I shuddered involuntarily. I wasn’t sure what unsettled me more, the thought of my mindless body being studied like an animal, or the thought of what L’Mak and I might talk about that might provoke the reaction. It made it impossible to relax, though I knew L’Mak was waiting for some sign that I was ready to start the session.

Unperturbed by my reluctance, L’Mak smiled patiently, and waited.

I sighed. Clearly he was prepared to sit there as long as it took for me to start talking. I reminded myself sternly that this was the whole point of the exercise. He was here to help me exorcise the demons that were responsible for my banishment, but there wasn’t much he could do unless I co-operated. I knew that. But knowing it was necessary didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m not big on talking about myself,” I said finally.

L’Mak smiled again, encouragingly. “That’s understandable,” he responded. “I imagine it comes with the job.”

“Spy habits are hard to break,” I admitted. “And I don’t like talking about the past. For obvious reasons.”

“Well, how about we start with the present, if that’s easier?” L’Mak suggested. “Tell me about you. Who are you, Natasha Romanoff?”

I shrugged. “I’m the Black Widow. KGB assassin, Shield spy, Commander –“ I stopped myself, flushing. “Former Commander of the Avengers Initiative.” I tried to shrug off my lapse, and the twist of shame it conjured in my gut. “You already know all that.”

“Indeed I do. So tell me something I don’t know. Why were _you_ the Commander of the Avengers Initiative?”

I winced again at his use of the past tense, then shrugged, unsure what he was asking. “Because… well, I guess because the others wanted me to be. I never asked for it, they gave me the job.”

“But they already had a competent commander in Ms Hill,” he pointed out. “One officially awarded the position, I might add. So why change that? Why give it to you?”

I shrugged again, perplexed by his line of questioning. “I guess because they thought I was better. Even Maria. _Especially_ Maria. She hates calling the shots, she never wanted the job in the first place, she only took it because there was no-one else suitable. Rhodes is solid, but at heart he’s a soldier; creative thinking isn’t his strong suit. The others were all too inexperienced to lead. Maria was the only one Fury trusted who had the necessary skills, but she was never comfortable with it. She’s amazing at what she does, she has this formidable ability to cut through all the crap and just get things _done_ , but she’d rather not be the one dictating strategy. She doesn’t want the responsibility of having the future of the whole world hanging on her choices.” She was no doubt cursing me in every language she knew right now, I thought ruefully.

“A heavy burden indeed,” L’Mak agreed soberly. He regarded me intently. “But one your friends evidently felt you were more than capable of shouldering. Up until now.”

I averted my eyes uncomfortably. My peoples’ faith and trust had always been somewhat inexplicable to me, but I had been proud of it nonetheless. Though I had never asked to lead, had never really believed I deserved it, I had discovered that I liked being in command. It felt _right_ , intuitive, like playing music by ear. I thrived on the challenge of dissecting each crisis, and directing the right mix of people and resources to meet it. I took intense satisfaction in nurturing my team of incredible people, from the Avengers themselves down to the shy young technician who blushed every time he brought me coffee. I might have been mystified by their devotion, but I still enjoyed it. It had made me even more determined to be better, be worthy of that respect.

It pained me deeply that I had failed.

L’Mak regarded me with sympathy, guessing my thoughts. “Your people love you,” he observed. He inclined his head slightly. “And you are afraid recent events have changed their feelings toward you.”

I swallowed, and reluctantly nodded.

“And perhaps, you feel they are right to change their opinion of you. Perhaps even that you never deserved their love all along.”

I grimaced. “I never really understood why they would want an assassin to lead them,” I admitted. “I’ve taken so many lives, their names would fill a book. My entire existence has been based on lies… why on earth would anyone trust me, let alone love me?”

He smiled. “Have you ever asked your _tonakida-shalon_ that question?” he asked, his eyes on the ring on my left hand. Though I knew the Wakandans did not share the custom of exchanging rings on betrothal, I was in no doubt that he knew full well what it signified.

“What did you call her?” I asked, frowning, avoiding his question.

His smile widened, fully aware of what I was doing, but he indulged me. “ _Tonakida-shalon_? It means ‘double-bonded’. In our culture, we believe that the truest form of love is a bonding of souls, and our eternal search is for a person whose soul is a fit match for our own. Some find them, some do not. However, those like yourself, who find themselves desiring a partner of their own sex, we believe were born with not one but _two_ souls, those of both a man and a woman, tied to one body. It is therefore an even more formidable challenge for one like you, to find your soulmate, that unique being whose two souls are a match for both of yours. Such couples are considered to have overcome great adversity, and are highly respected.”

I stared, slack-jawed with surprise. I had been raised in a place where same-sex relationships were an anathema, and though I had spent enough time within western society to have grown more comfortable with the concept, I had never thought that Melanie and I would be openly accepted anywhere beyond our immediate circle of friends. To discover that we not only need not hide our relationship in Wakanda, but that we were actually _admired_ for it, was... unbelievable. Too good to be true. 

“Do you allow couples to marry?” I asked uncertainly, sure there must be a catch somewhere.

He laughed. “Of course, although our concept of marriage is a little different to yours. Such bindings are a cause for great rejoicing, all the more so because they are so rare. The King himself performs the ceremony.” He winked. “Something for you to think about, I am sure.” He returned firmly to the topic at hand. “So have you ever asked her why she loves you?”

I shrugged, discomforted once again. “Not really. Why would I? Its enough of a miracle for me that she does, I don’t need to push my luck.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you _don’t_ feel you deserve her love?”

Pressing my lips together, I didn’t answer, resentful of his probing. I wasn’t interested in second-guessing my relationship with Melanie. He was supposed to be helping me deal with my past; my present was irrelevant.

L’Mak seemed to guess my thoughts from my expression. “The past and present are always connected,” he gently chided me. “You cannot explore one without examining the other. I’m intrigued as to why you would feel underserving.”

Irritated, I found myself snapping. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one with two PhD’s in psychology, isn’t it your job to come up with the clever theories? Enlighten me!”

He looked faintly amused at my rudeness. “Oh come now, Natasha, don’t pretend you lack intelligence. You may not have official qualifications, but I know you are at least as clever as I am, if not more so. How many languages do you speak? Five? Six?”

I shrugged, a little mollified at the compliment. “Seven if you include Latin.”

He chuckled, delighted. “Latin as well? You _are_ special.”

I clenched my fists, turning abruptly back to the view outside. The monitor on my wrist beeped, registering the acceleration of my heartbeat. Breathing deeply, I slowly counted to a hundred, calming myself back down.

L’Mak watched me. “What happened then?” he asked when my fists finally relaxed.

I answered with another noncommittal shrug, my eyes still averted.

He regarded me intently. “Why does it upset you, to be told that you are exceptional?” he asked softly.

My stomach gave another twist, and I gritted my teeth. “Being exceptional is the whole reason for this mess,” I answered bitterly.

His interest sharpened. “Can you explain that, please?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, resting my forehead against the window. The cool glass was soothing. “The Red Room chose me, groomed me as a killer, because I was exceptional, and lot of people died at my hands because I was so damn good at it. Goravitch became obsessed with me, because I was unique, because I was the only one that survived his serum. Madame B allowed a liaison that would normally have been a death sentence, because I was _special_ , and now a woman I should never have cared for is killing innocent people to pay me back for breaking her heart. So many people, all dead, all because I am _exceptional_.” I almost spat out the last word, as though it tasted foul. “A lot of people would have been better off, if I had been ordinary.”

“ _You_ wouldn’t have been,” he pointed out. “If I understand correctly, anyone who was less than exceptional was very quickly dead.”

I sighed, and at long last sat down, resting my head on my hand, suddenly feeling exhausted, the weight of guilt on my soul too much to bear. “Maybe it would have been better that way.”

His brow furrowed in concern.

I waved away his alarm. “I’m not suicidal, L’Mak. Not really. I know I went a little crazed the other day, but that was… an overreaction. Now, I’m just tired. I want all this to be over. I have no interest in being special. I’ve saved the world, fought for it, given my life for it… and I’ve had enough. I just want to marry Melanie, build a home, maybe even have a family… I want a normal, ordinary life.”

“A worthy goal,” he agreed, relaxing. “Although regrettably difficult to achieve, for a couple such as you. From what I hear, your _tonakida-shalon_ is as exceptional as you are. Which is as it should be,” he added smoothly, seeing me frown. “Equality is important within a relationship.”

“I wouldn’t say I was her equal,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

He leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “She’s… such a good person.”

He cocked his head on one side again. “And you assume you are not?”

“I _know_ I’m not.”

He sat back, regarding me with genuine puzzlement at my vehemence. “I would like to hear your reasoning.”

I rolled my eyes. Wasn’t it obvious? “’Thou shalt not kill’ is generally high in most cultures’ moral standards,” I pointed out.

He nodded. “I see. So because you killed, and are willing to kill again, you see yourself as inherently evil?”

“I… guess,” I muttered, wishing I had kept my mouth shut.

He smiled faintly. “Tell me, Natasha. A fox pursues a rabbit through the woods. The rabbit flees in terror, but eventually, the fox kills the rabbit. Is the fox evil for causing such fear, for ending the rabbit’s life?”

“No,” I said uncomfortably. “But that’s nature, the fox kills to eat, for survival…”

“As did you,” he remarked. “You would not have survived had you not done as you did.”

I shook my head stubbornly.

“All right then, let’s take another example,” he said. “Let’s say, a soldier on a battlefield. He is given an order to fire a cannon. He does so, and the blast kills five opposing soldiers. Is the soldier who fired the cannon evil?”

I gritted my teeth. “It’s not the same. A battle is a kill or be killed scenario. I killed people who were helpless to harm me.”

“Because you were ordered to do so, not because you wanted to,” L’Mak insisted.

I rubbed my forehead wearily. Melanie had said something similar. I was sick of people trying to convince me that I had an excuse for my crimes. “Following orders, when those orders are immoral, is no excuse. If I had been a better person, I would have refused to follow those orders, even if it meant my life. If I was a good person, I would have refused to kill at all, and I would have died during my training. But I didn’t want to die. My own skin meant more to me than anyone else’s, and so they died instead.”

His brows rose at my bitterness. “I think you’re being very harsh on yourself. You were what, five years old when you entered the Red Room?”

I inclined my head. “I’m impressed. You’ve done your homework.”

He disregarded both the remark and my sour tone. “You could hardly expect a child to react in any other way than how you did. In a very real sense, you _were_ on a battlefield, for most of your youth. The same kill or be killed scenario applies.”

I was silent, unconvinced.

L’Mak pursed his lips. “You are determined to think of yourself as a bad person, despite all the evidence to the contrary,” he observed.

I snorted. My current predicament seemed to offer just as sound evidence in favour, in my opinion.

“You think these episodes of yours are evidence that your nature is evil,” he commented, correctly interpreting my derision.

I stared at the floor. “A good person doesn’t rip people limb from limb with their bare hands. Only a monster would do that.”

“But you have harmed no-one,” he pointed out.

“This time round. And only because I was contained, or tranquillised,” I growled.

“True, but if I understand rightly, the way your powers have been manifesting is no fault of your own, but a reaction to the torture you underwent in your youth.”

“And that makes it okay, does it?” I snapped, incensed. “I was being tortured, so that makes it okay that my reflex reaction was to turn myself into a creature that rips people’s throats out? What kind of person does that make me?”

“The kind of person that had spent most of her life being trained to attack,” L’Mak returned calmly. “One can only act based on what we have experienced. You had never been shown kindness, or mercy, so why should it surprise you that you showed none?”

Confused but stubbornly unmoved, I set my chin sullenly and refused to respond.

L’Mak abruptly changed tactics. “What about your friend, Dr Banner?”

I looked up, surprised. “What about him?”

“He was also subject to attacks of destructive rage, much like yourself. Do you consider _him_ to be evil in nature?”

“What? No, never!” I retorted, scandalised that he could even suggest such a thing. Bruce was one of the purest-hearted people I had ever known, next to Melanie.

“Why not?”

I was brought up short. “Because… he’s a good person,” I said lamely.

“In what way?”

“He helps people. When I recruited him, he was in Calcutta treating typhoid sufferers. Even when he was in hiding, trying to avoid incidents, he was still doing his best to help people.” I looked down. “That was part of the reason I was attracted to him years ago. Everyone I knew was a fighter, but he hated the fight, not because he was afraid of losing but because he knew he would win. He hated that it was so easy for him to hurt people. Melanie is the same.”

“So you define goodness as wanting to help people, wanting to protect them? Feeling pain when people get hurt?”

“I… suppose…”

He smiled. “Have you not just been telling me how much it pains you that people are dying? Were you not the leader of a group dedicated to protecting people? Did you not chain yourself up in a basement to keep yourself from harming anyone? If you are evil, why do you care whether you hurt them or not?”

“Stop it!” I clutched at my hair in frustration, feeling like I was going around in circles. I clamped my mouth shut, determined not to continue this conversation anymore. It was giving me a splitting headache.

L’Mak tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair thoughtfully. “I have a theory,” he ventured presently.

I supressed a groan. “I’m sure you do.”

“I’m not saying I’m correct.” He leaned forward earnestly. “But I do wonder if perhaps the reason you are so reluctant to believe you are good, is because you _need_ to believe that you are not.”

I eyed him, not sure what he meant by that. “You’ve lost me.”

He rested his chin on his joined fingertips, his expression serious. “No child should have suffered what you did, Natasha. The crimes this… Madame B,” he checked his notes for the first time, mouthing the unfamiliar name with distaste, “inflicted upon you in your youth were heinous in the extreme. I have seen full-grown adults who cannot function as people, so scarred are they by the events of their childhood; yet you managed to survive over a decade of abuse, and still become the extraordinary woman that sits before me. Perhaps you taught yourself to believe that you are evil, because it was the only way you could process what you experienced in a way that still allowed you to function effectively, allowed you to survive. Perhaps you _needed_ to feel that the reason she made you suffer was not because you were an innocent victim, but because you _deserved_ it.”

 _You deserve this punishment. You know that, don’t you?_ Madame B’s voice seemed to suddenly echo around my head. I stared at L’Mak, a powerful ache igniting in my chest. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t seem to fill my lungs.

He smiled sadly. “You supressed the worst memories, explained the rest away, convinced yourself you deserved everything you got. But now, you have started to uncover the unpleasant truth… and your heart is rebelling against your brain, telling it that all those layers of processing over the years were wrong. You _didn’t_ deserve it, you _weren’t_ being punished. You were a victim.” His soft voice rose with conviction.

“Stop it,” I whispered. The monitor on my wrist began to beep a warning as my heartrate sky-rocketed. I started to tremble.

He ignored the danger signals, intent on ramming his point home. “ _That_ is why you are suffering now. Your brain is confused, in a panic, because all those lies you told yourself go deep, and they are being torn out at the roots. You are being forced to see the truth, and that terrifies you.”

“Stop!”

He carried on, as relentless as a bulldozer intent on toppling one particular tree, heedless of how many others it flattened on the way.

“You are terrified to see yourself as a victim, because a victim is weak and helpless. You are in agony, realising that a woman who should have protected you, an innocent child, instead brutalised you and turned you into a weapon. Most of all, you are ashamed… ashamed that you were warped into idolising the person who did this to you. You drove yourself so relentlessly to succeed not because you were evil, or a born killer, but because you wanted to earn the approval, the affection, of your tormentor. You wanted her to love you, and taught yourself that it never happened, not because she was a heartless bitch incapable loving anyone, but because _you_ were not worthy!”

“Shut up!” I screamed, my head exploding with agony as the rage burned through my chest.

But this time, aware as I had never been before, I realised what was about to happen a scant second before it did, and braced for it. Time suddenly seemed to warp and slow to a crawl, as the deep vibration I had felt facing my shadow hummed through my bones, repelling my own mind with a force that would not be overruled. In less time than it took to blink my eyes, I felt myself separate. Astonished, I watched as my body seemed to move forward without me, hurling itself against the barrier in a frenzy.

I looked down at my hands, and found I could see through them. Bewildered, I looked back at my body, my real body, and blanched at the expression on its face – my face - it’s eyes fixed in feverish hatred on the still figure of L’Mak, who sat calmly on the other side of the barrier, his face pale but composed. An inhuman howl of rage came from its mouth as it hit the barrier in a starburst of blue sparks.

Overwhelmed by deepest horror, wanting nothing more than to get away from the thing, I turned and fled, barely registering what direction I was running in my desperation to get far away.

A second later, my brain kicked in, and I screeched to a halt, fuming at my cowardice. Running away! That was a fine way for a supposedly fearless assassin to behave! No doubt L’Mak was going to have a field day analysing that… I turned back to face the man, wracking my brain for something to say to make light of my moment of panic, then blinked in confusion.

I was back in my apartment.

How had I got here?

Frowning, I turned and stared hard at the door in the corner. The door that led to a fifty foot hallway that terminated in another door that opened into the Cube.

I didn’t remember passing through that hallway. Nor did I remember opening the doors.

“What the?” I muttered, putting up a hand to rake my fingers through my hair.

A flicker of movement in the corner of my eye nearly set me off running again. Swearing furiously at my sudden inexplicable nerviness, I forced myself to stand, then sought the source of the movement that had startled me.

It was the mirror.

My mouth dropped open as I stared at the featureless, translucent silhouette reflected in its polished surface. I moved my hand in an arch, and the dark figure in the mirror did likewise.

“Oh my god,” I whispered. I looked at my hand again, but it still looked real enough to me, though transparent. The mirror told the true story, however. I was nothing but a shadow. My body was still back in the Cube, trying its best to murder L’Mak. I didn’t remember opening doors in order to get here, because I hadn’t! I’d run right through them!

“This is messed up,” I murmured, raising and lowering my arms, slightly mesmerised by the way the dark silhouette in the mirror did likewise. I wondered why I was suddenly _aware_ of being a shadow, when I hadn’t been before. Then I remembered the vague images I had always been left with after an attack, images I struggled to grasp, but that always seemed to be viewing the chaos my body was wreaking _from a distance_. Perhaps I _had_ been aware, but had simply supressed the memory. My subconscious seemed to make a habit of doing that, I thought irritably, but once again, it could not continue to do so now that my conscious mind knew the truth.

I looked at my reflection again. Now that I had calmed down a little, I found myself marvelling. I had powers! Not just a terrifying rage monster reflex, but an actual useable ability! I strutted up and down in front of the mirror, fascinated by my impossible reflection. I was controlling my shadow!

I amused myself for a minute or two, making ridiculous poses, then the sound of a clock striking the hour recalled me to the present. “Okay,” I told myself firmly. “Enough of that. Focus. What have you learned?” I considered carefully. So far, two facts leaped out at me.

One, my shadow was fast! I had covered the distance between the Cube and this room so quickly it hadn’t even registered. Fast was good, I reasoned, considering I had a limit on how much time I could spend in this form. With such speed to call upon, that would be less of a problem.

Two, the shadow, unlike my body, evidently could _not_ be contained, not by walls or locked doors or even the Wakandans’ formidable energy barriers – I had passed right through that too. Which was another definite plus – I could go anywhere like this, and no-one could stop me. Weapons would pass right through me. Although, I thought, frowning, that could also be a downside in a combat scenario. How was I supposed to defeat an enemy I couldn’t touch?

I screwed up my face, trying to think. I could have sworn I remembered Bruce saying something about my shadow being able to take corporeal form – I assumed that meant able to touch things.

Hesitantly, I reached out to touch the wall beside the mirror. I could see right through my own hand, and as I came into contact with the wall, I felt nothing. My hand passed right through it as though it were a mirage.

“Weird,” I commented to no-one in particular, staring in fascination at my arm sticking out of the wall. I pulled back, and my hand reappeared. Frowning, I looked at it. I could still see through it. Remembering what Melanie had said about going with my instincts, I glared at my hand, trying to will it to become real, and suddenly I was confronted by seemingly solid flesh. I touched the wall again, and this time I couldn’t pass through it, though I could feel neither texture nor temperature. If I closed my eyes, it would be like an invisible barrier blocked my path. I ran my hand over the wall, but there was no sensation of friction, just that feeling of being blocked. I rubbed my fingertips together. Again, nothing. The sudden lack of a sense I had always taken for granted was extremely disorienting. Still, I thought, I wasn’t doing too badly. I could see, and I could hear. And if I couldn’t feel physical sensation, at least I could still interact with things if I chose. I allowed myself a grim smile, thinking of the kinds of things I might want to interact with.

I wondered if I could still smell, still taste, and was on the verge of heading towards the small kitchen area to experiment when there was a sudden sound behind me.

Abruptly I was one with the long shadow being cast by the hanging punchbag, having moved before I could think. Instinctively, I altered my shape, fitting myself neatly within the simple profile, ensuring no appendages poked out to give me away.

A nanosecond later, Melanie appeared in the centre of the room with a soft pop of displaced air.

Relieved, and a little ashamed of myself for hiding, I relaxed my stance, but Melanie didn’t notice; almost as soon as she popped into existence she was moving, making a beeline for the door. Quickly activating the DNA scanner, she was through the portal the instant it opened, hurrying down the hallway.

I grimaced; as soon as the door opened, I could hear the inhuman shrieks of the demon echoing down the corridor. Evidently the energy barriers were successfully keeping it from maiming anybody, because it’s howls of thwarted rage were bloodcurdling.

Steeling myself, I followed Melanie down the hall towards the lab. It took a surprising amount of concentration to force myself to drift slowly behind her and not zip ahead. My shadow seemed naturally inclined to one of two speeds – lightning fast or dead stop. It also seemed to have an irresistible attraction to other shadows, as I found myself dodging into every dark space I passed despite my intention to simply walk normally down the centre of the hallway. After a few seconds of frustratingly erratic progress, I gave up trying to fight the compulsion and went with it, and quickly found a rhythm, darting from shadow to shadow.

At one point, I saw Melanie pause and turn to glance about in puzzlement, having caught a glimpse of motion in the corner of her eye, but before she even completed turning her head I was once more concealed in a dark alcove behind a convenient statue, and her eyes slid right over me. She shook her head, apparently deciding she was imagining things, and continued on to the lab.

Shuri and L’Mak stood in the centre, heads bent over a tablet, a small oasis of calm in what otherwise looked like total chaos. The Cube’s interior was fully revealed, and I flinched at the sight of my body, clawing at the shimmering energy barrier like some slavering beast. There was not a hint of sanity in that face. Starbursts of blue light exploded across the barrier’s surface every time it made violent contact, which was so frequent it looked like they were holding an indoor firework display. Behind the creature, I could just make out the remains of the single armchair that had graced my side of the room, now strewn all over the floor. I hoped Shuri hadn’t been particularly attached to it, because my demon had reduced it to a million splinters, shreds of fabric and clumps of stuffing. Several of Shuri’s assistants were busy around the sides of the Cube, pointing various pieces of equipment and noting down measurements, and a couple more looked to be attempting to communicate, one talking in loud, slow, soothing tones, and another showing it pictures on a handheld flat screen. Needless to state, neither was getting any reaction other than continual vicious lunges in their direction. I shuddered and looked away.

L’Mak and Shuri broke off their discussion as Melanie’s steps faltered, her distraught gaze fixed on the thing that wasn’t me. L’Mak muttered something in a low voice to Shuri, sympathy clear on his face, and Shuri nodded and quickly tapped the device she held. The walls of the Cube immediately blanked out, and the screams were cut off abruptly as the soundproofing qualities were re-enabled. I made a mental note to thank L’Mak for that.

Melanie stared at the now blank wall for a moment longer, then drew a shuddering breath and turned towards them. “Is she all right?” she asked in a small voice.

L’Mak spread his hands. “Difficult to say in her present condition, but you all agree she will return to her normal state after thirty minutes, and I see no reason to believe she will be harmed by the process.” He smiled kindly. “She will, however, be needing a new chair.”

Melanie made a sound that might have been intended as a laugh, but sounded more like a sob. “I hope T’Challa takes credit cards, if he wants compensation for all the furniture she smashes up,” she said, with a brave attempt at humour. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I had actual money…”

“I’m sure you can come to some arrangement,” L’Mak replied, his eyes twinkling.

Melanie sighed, glancing towards the Cube once more. “Well that didn’t take long. I suppose that’s a positive thing; at least she was willing to talk to you,” she said in resignation. “I wasn’t sure if she would. She’s so bloody stubborn sometimes…”

“Really?” L’Mak said drily. “I would never have guessed.”

Melanie chuckled unwillingly.

“She’ll be fine,” Shuri told her reassuringly, one eye on the glowing translucent screen of the device in her hand. She shook her head in awed appreciation. “Trust me, if she can live through this, she can survive anything. I’m amazed she can keep this up for two minutes, never mind half an hour! _Look_ at these readings!” She gestured, thrusting the device under Melanie’s nose. “Heart rate, adrenaline levels – off the scale! And showing no sign of coming down! She should be dead!”

Melanie flinched, but glanced over the readout. Her eyes grew wide. “My god,” she breathed. She cast another frantic look at the Cube. “We have to do something! She’ll have a heart attack!”

“Unlikely,” Shuri dismissed her panic. “Her heart is clearly made of stronger stuff than the average Joe. But it certainly explains why her powers come with a time limit. That’s her survival instinct kicking in, I expect, snapping her out of it before her heart gives out.”

This did not seem to reassure Melanie very much. Nor me, come to that. It seemed a very chancy system to me, to simply hope that my subconscious would pull me out of this before it killed me. I pursed my invisible lips. There had to be a better way. I had managed to reconnect with my shadow before, surely I could do the same in reverse?

There was only one way to find out.

Steeling myself, I flitted from shadow to shadow until I reached the Cube wall and pushed myself through it. It was a weird feeling; I imagined it might feel like pushing through gel, but there was no physical sensation whatsoever. The wall might as well have been a hologram. The lab disappeared, and the Cube’s interior materialised like magic, complete with howling demon. As the lab and the people in it were no longer visible, and the single item of furniture already in so many pieces there was nothing left to destroy, it’s attention had turned to the window. It was attempting to batter its way through it to get at the flow of humanity it could see wandering the streets below. Ripples of blue light showed that the energy barrier had extended to prevent it smashing through the glass. I swallowed my revulsion at having to approach the thing wearing my shape, and strode resolutely forward. I didn’t feel so much as a tingle as I passed through the energy barrier, but the inner vibration began again, quickly growing stronger the nearer I came. Pausing behind the creature, I focussed with all my might on the attracting force, and slapped my hand down on its shoulder.

There was a jolt like an electric shock, and a moment’s disorientation, and then I was abruptly looking out of my own eyes. An inhuman shriek in my throat died in mid-breath, causing me to cough and splutter as I almost swallowed my own tongue. I slowly straightened up from the demon’s half-crouch, turning away from the window, unclenching muscles that ached with tension. My hands stung, and I winced, looking down at the splinters embedded in my flesh. Abruptly light-headed, I wobbled and dropped ungracefully to my knees.

Something must have alerted those in the next room, because the doors to the lab suddenly slid aside, and Melanie rushed in, Shuri close on her heels. L’Mak, ludicrously hobbit-like in comparison, strolled in behind them.

“Ah, good, you’re back,” he remarked cheerfully, as though I had just popped to the store for milk.

Drained as I was, I nonetheless could not help but smile, amused by his attitude. Melanie’s anxious face relaxed in relief as I looked up at her. I held up my hand to stall her as she opened her mouth. “I’m fine,” I assured her wearily. I sagged back on my heels and shook my head in bemusement. “But I have to say, that was _the_ weirdest thing I have ever experienced in my entire life, bar none. And I’ve travelled in time, been to space, come back from the dead and gotten emails from a talking racoon…”

The two women looked stunned, and L’Mak grinned.

I glanced between them, absurdly pleased with their reaction, then hauled myself to my feet, pulling my features into a scowl and taking up an indignant stance, hands on hips, as I faced my fiancé. “And what do you mean, ‘she’s so bloody stubborn sometimes’? You’ve got some room to talk! You’re twice as stubborn as I am!”

Melanie’s face lit up. Shuri released the energy barrier, and she all but threw herself into my arms. “You heard! You didn’t black out! That’s amazing… Whoops!” The last as I almost collapsed again under her weight, my legs like jelly. She grabbed me and held me up. “It really takes it out of you, doesn’t it?” she observed as I leaned thankfully against her. “Ooh, ouch, let me look at those.”

She helped me stagger a few steps and lowered me into L’Mak’s chair. Shuri immediately descended with some sort of instrument, shining a bright light in my eyes and attempting to lift my eyelid. My feigned scowl deepened into a real one, and I shook her off irritably. “Get that thing out of my face or you’ll be needing it surgically removed from your ass!”

“Yep, she’s back to normal,” Shuri announced, grinning.

Melanie chuckled, relief clear in her voice, and tutted over the state of my hands. My skin tingled, and I grimaced at the unpleasant sensation of the splinters wriggling their way out from under my skin, but it was a relief to have the sense of touch back again, even if what I was feeling was discomfort. Satisfied that no undesirable material remained, Melanie held my hands briefly, and the myriad tiny gashes instantly closed, leaving my skin unblemished.

Melanie gave my hands an affectionate squeeze. “There you go. Good as new.”

I smiled lopsidedly. “Thanks, love.” My tired gaze swept over the room. “Shame you can’t do the same for the chair. Sorry about that.” I glanced a little shame-facedly at L’Mak. “And ah… sorry I tried to kill you,” I said awkwardly.

“Apology accepted,” he replied, eyes twinkling, “though unnecessary. I did provoke you, after all.”

“You did,” I agreed with a bad taste in my mouth. I caught a glance between Melanie and Shuri and winced. Of course they were curious as to what L’Mak had said to set me off, although not even Melanie would ask. I knew L’Mak would not elaborate either; trust between a counsellor and his patient was important, and the lengths he and Shuri had gone to to ensure our discussions remained confidential was the only reason I had been able to face entering this room at all. I shied away from remembering exactly what he had said, unwilling to examine his words more closely just now. My nerves felt raw, my stomach upset. I didn’t relish the thought of the next instalment; I hoped I had at least earned a break before I was forced to continue.

Sensing my mood darken, Melanie made haste to distract me. “So what happened?” she asked eagerly. “How did you hear what I said? Did you become the shadow? Could you control it?”

“Yes and yes,” I told her, smiling at her enthusiasm. “It was insane, I walked through the barrier and the walls like they weren’t even there!”

“So you were in the lab with us?” Shuri exclaimed.

“Just now I was. I followed Mel from our room.”

“I knew I saw something in the corridor!” Melanie crowed triumphantly, her eyes shining with excitement. “That was you, right? Where were you when I came into our room? I didn’t see anything.”

I shrugged. “You startled me,” I admitted, slightly embarrassed. “This thing is a little skittish. I heard you popping into existence, and I hid.” I shook my head, this time in wonder. “You wouldn’t believe how fast this thing can move! I didn’t even have time to think about it, I was there before I could even blink! And then I sort of…. squished up, became the shape of the shadow I was hiding in, so you wouldn’t see a human silhouette.”

She laughed, clapping her hands in delight. “That’s awesome! But if you can walk through walls and change your shape… does that mean you were insubstantial? Couldn’t you touch anything?”

“At first I couldn’t. And I could see right through myself, like I was transparent. But then I tried to, I don’t know, _will_ myself solid, and it worked. I couldn’t get through the wall anymore.” I frowned thoughtfully. “I think I have to focus to stay like that though. I was solid when you startled me, but to get to the shadow of the punchbag I hid in, I think I must have zoomed straight _through_ it.”

“Why didn’t you let me know you were there?” she asked.

“I was going to, but you headed this way, so I followed you. That’s when I heard what you said, about me being stubborn. Then I wondered if I had to wait until the thirty minutes was up, or if I could snap myself out of it, so I decided to try.”

“Well it worked,” Shuri observed, grinning. “How did you do it?”

“Same as the last time,” I told her. “When we touched, everything just… snapped back into place.”

“Really?” She looked half impressed, half sceptical. “It’s that simple?”

“Well…” I thought of the strange vibration, the feeling of being both attracted and repulsed… “Not quite, no. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

“Perhaps,” L’Mak cut in as Shuri drew breath to start what I could see was going to be a lengthy interrogation, “perhaps Natasha will be better able to describe her experience if she has a little time to reflect.”

I cast him a grateful look, and he returned a smile. “I suggest we adjourn this discussion, and give you a chance to rest. The process does appear to be quite physically taxing.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Shuri immediately looked contrite. “Sorry Nat, you must be exhausted! Go put your feet up, I’ve got plenty of data to keep me busy for a while. You know, I think I could come up with a more elegant solution to your containment problem, these readings clearly show a massive spike in heart rate and adrenaline level at the trigger point. And then when you woke up, the sudden drop was incredible – that’s how we knew you were back, you know. If these readings are consistent, then I should be able to manufacture a containment field that will activate automatically as soon as you hit that point, or perhaps a little before, I’ll need to analyse the data more thoroughly to find the precise tipping point -”

“That’s great,” I interjected with a tired smile, seeing she wasn’t about to run out of words anytime soon. “Thanks for your help, Shuri.”

“Come on,” Melanie said, amused, offering me her hand and heaving me out of the chair. “I’ll see you back to our room.”

“I’ll see you again in a couple of hours, Natasha,” L’Mak said, “and we can continue our discussion. I believe we made a very promising start.”

I grimaced. “I would say I looked forward to it, but that would be a lie.”

He laughed good naturedly and waved me on my way. He and Shuri turned back into the lab as Melanie and I let ourselves out the opposite door into the private corridor to our quarters.

“He seems nice,” Melanie commented once we were out of earshot.

I smiled, twining my fingers through hers as we walked. “He is nice. I like him.” I pulled a face. “I just don’t like the things he’s saying.” I changed the subject. “Any update on what’s happening at home?”

She waited until we were inside our suite and the door closed, then sighed. “Still no sign of the Hydra base. Based on the information Viktoria gave us, we’ve defined the area that could contain her point of origin, but it’s still a big chunk of ocean. We’ve exhausted every method of searching remotely we can think of, but it hasn’t shown up any anomalies; even Friday can’t find anything. We don’t have any choice left but to search manually. Maria has negotiated with the UN and sweet-talked them into contributing a few vessels to scan using sonar. They’ll be in range in a day or two, but unless they get lucky, it’s going to take a while to search the whole sector.”

“I don’t like it,” I muttered after pondering what she had said for a long moment. “Something doesn’t feel right. Viktoria said the base was huge. How can something that big be hidden from Friday, even if it is underwater? And T’Challa’s satellites are even more advanced… surely _something_ should show up, even if it was just a tiny temperature difference. And I don’t like sending ships in there. If she realises they’re looking for her,” I avoided saying Tanya’s name, “and she will, what’s to stop her from torpedoing them?”

Melanie chewed her lip as she silently followed my reasoning. If Hydra realised we were searching, and destroyed the ships before we found them, we would be back to square one, and if we did locate the base, they had nothing to lose by attacking first. Either way, the crews of those ships were in serious danger. “Nothing,” she admitted, distressed. “But how else are we supposed to find the base, without sonar?”

I frowned. “Ships aren’t the only vessels with sonar,” I said slowly. “We need to take a leaf out of their book, use their own tactics against them. We need something that can search underwater, something as difficult to detect as they are.”

A smile crept over Melanie’s face as she saw where I was going with this. “We need another submarine.” She kissed me quickly and stood up. “I’ll go tell Maria, get her to recall the ships, and find us a sub.”

“Wait,” I stalled her, thinking hard. “Don’t recall them. Tell her… I mean,” I flushed, remembering I was no longer in a position to give orders, “ _suggest_ that we let them search, just not within the area we know they’re hiding in. Get them to do a sweep south and west of that.”

Melanie’s smile widened. “A red herring,” she observed in admiration. “Hydra will know we’re searching, but think they’re safe, because we’re looking in the wrong place. They won’t attack for fear of giving away their position, and they’ll be so busy watching them, they won’t notice a sub sneaking into their territory.”

I inclined my head. “That’s the idea.”

“I think its brilliant.” She kissed me again. “You rest. I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I returned, my lips lingering on hers.

Grinning, she vanished.

Blinking from the gold flash, I sighed, looking around the now empty room in disgruntlement. The Wakandans were extremely kind; I knew I had only to ask and anything I wanted would be provided, but their hospitality could not disguise the fact that this was still a prison. Though everyone had gone to great lengths to stress that my banishment was not a punishment; though in truth I had expected – and honestly had to admit I deserved – far worse, my exile still rankled. I didn’t belong here. Melanie shouldn’t have to be my errand runner, I should be in the control room with Maria, in the thick of things, making decisions, doing what I did best. Instead, I was relegated to the side-lines, stuck talking about things I would rather French-kiss a diseased gibbon than discuss. Admittedly, discovering I could become a shadow that could walk through walls was incredibly cool, but it wasn’t going to help us find Tanya’s hidden base, or solve the problem of what Goravitch was creating with the stolen vibranium. Lives depended on us doing that.

But lives also depended on me learning how not to become a killing machine, I reminded myself glumly, and until I could overcome that tricky little problem, I was stuck here. Reluctantly, I cast my mind back over what L’Mak had said about Madame B, and supressed a shudder.

I was not looking forward to the next session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right guys, I'm afraid I've reached the end of everything I had in the rough! Don't worry, I'm still writing (lockdown boredom and all that) but updates might be a bit slower from now on! Please bear with. As always, thanks so much for reading and the kudos. Please comment - its all blank paper from here so I'm happy to take on board ideas!


	14. 14.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Natasha struggles to reconcile her feelings for the woman who dominated her throughout her youth, Melanie has her own ideas about how to help.

“Mother,” L’Mak said decisively.

I recoiled sharply as the holographically simulated image of a familiar, impassive woman appeared, slightly hazy through the barrier between us.

“That is _not_ my mother,” I snarled, outraged.

L’Mak shrugged. “I never said it was. It is, however, what your mind associates with the word.”

I gritted my teeth. “Like hell it is. This stupid contraption is malfunctioning,” I snapped, gesturing to the slender device around my head. Another of Shuri’s inventions, it looked something like a cross between a pair of sunglasses and a tiara. Its function was it scanned the parts of the brain that processed visual data and memory. When L’Mak stimulated those areas by giving me a key word or phrase, it turned my unconscious response to that stimulus into a 3D hologrammatic representation that we could both see. I had to admit, it was impressive, even though I was extremely unhappy about what it was coming up with.

“It’s wrong,” I insisted again. Even to my own ears, I sounded like a petulant child. “My mother died giving birth to me. _That_ is a monster.”

Ignoring my protests, L’Mak walked up to the hologram of Madam B, studying it with interest. “Tell me more about this woman.”

I scowled. “She was in charge of the Red Room,” I growled unwillingly. “She raised me, trained me.” I paused a moment, wrestling with myself.

L’Mak waited patiently, sensing there was more.

“She forced me to go through with the graduation ceremony, even though I didn’t want to,” I said finally. The image of Madame B vanished, to be replaced by an object that made my stomach clench; a shining silver scalpel, its wickedly sharp edge glinting dangerously, hanging in the air before us. I averted my eyes hurriedly.

L’Mak looked grim, surveying the image my mind had produced. “I take it this ceremony left scars of the more physical variety.”

I snorted bitterly. “Very physical.” I hesitated, then lifted my clothing and pointed to a thin, barely visible scar low on my abdomen. “They removed my uterus. Ritual sterilization.” I quickly covered myself again, feeling inexplicably ashamed. “Assassins don’t have babies.”

L’Mak made a soft noise of dismay and sympathy. “I didn’t realise,” he said. “I’m sorry, Natasha.”

I shrugged, still not looking at him. “I don’t need your pity,” I muttered. “Pity won’t make it right.”

“Indeed not,” L’Mak agreed soberly. He regarded me thoughtfully for a long moment, then, to my relief, let it go. “Let us return, for the moment, to Madame B.” He looked back at the hologram of the woman that obligingly reappeared at the name. “What’s your most recent memory of her?”

I winced. The image shifted in response to my thoughts, and now Madame B appeared as I had last seen her, astonishment and agony twisting her usually stony countenance as she viewed the scarlet stain spreading across her white blouse.

L’Mak raised an eyebrow. “You shot her?”

“She shot me first!” I retorted defensively. She had ordered me shot, anyway. Same difference. I tore my eyes away from the hologram, disturbed by my own reaction. “She had it coming!”

L’Mak pursed his lips, studying the image intently. “You didn’t shoot to kill,” he observed. I didn’t ask how he knew that; clearly, he had studied more of human anatomy than simply the brain, enough to deduce that I had aimed deliberately for a precise point on the abdomen that would leave the woman’s vital organs intact, resulting in a wound that was both excruciating and messy, but not instantly fatal. Provided she had been tended to fairly promptly, there was no reason she should not have survived. He cocked his head in curiosity, shifting his gaze to me. “Why?”

I stared resolutely at the floor. “I was back in time,” I answered evasively. “It was too dangerous to kill her. I couldn’t risk mucking up the timestream.”

L’Mak nodded thoughtfully. “Perfectly logical.” He seemed to search for something in my face, seemed to find meaning in my deflection. “But that wasn’t the real reason, was it?”

I clenched my jaw and didn’t answer.

L’Mak waited a moment, then, when I remained silent, changed tactics. “How did it make you feel, shooting her?”

I threw up my hands in aggravation, looking anywhere but at the image. “I don’t know! I was close to bleeding to death myself at the time, I wasn’t really analysing my emotions!” My tone was a clear warning to desist from this line of inquiry.

He ignored my rising anger. “Then how do you feel about it now, seeing that?” he persisted, indicating the hologram. “You may not have meant to kill her, but such a wound is no minor thing. It could easily have proven fatal, if not treated promptly. There could have been complications. So how do you feel about the possibility that you may have killed her?”

I swallowed hard, unprepared for the strong emotions that welled up inside, emotions that felt wrong and unnatural, as though imposed by another’s will entirely. The unexpected and entirely unwelcome reaction made me feel like I was being smothered, all the oxygen squeezed out of my lungs.

He waited expectantly, with a look that told me he would not be diverted from the question.

“I don’t know,” I managed in a ragged whisper. I put my head in my hands, almost dislodging the device, making the hologram appear to convulse horribly. “I don’t know!”

“Yes you do,” he said gently. “You feel grief. And you are ashamed to feel that way.”

“She was a ruthless, stone-hearted bitch who murdered children,” I snarled viciously, leaping to my feet and starting to pace in agitation. “I hope she _is_ dead. I hope she died painfully! She deserved to suffer…” I choked on a strangled sob that fought its way up through my chest.

“The thought of her suffering upsets you,” L’Mak observed.

I clenched my fists, turned my back on him, pulling off the headset and hurling it to the floor, only just resisting the urge to stamp on it. The hologram flickered and vanished.

L’Mak sighed. “Natasha,” he said gently. “No-one is judging you. There is no right or wrong when it comes to emotion. You feel the way you feel.”

“I don’t _want_ to feel this way,” I grated, without turning around. “I _shouldn’t_ feel this way. Why the hell should I care about her? She never cared about me.”

“But you wanted her to,” he said softly.

I stared up at the ceiling, gritting my teeth. The back of my throat burned, as though tears swallowed down decades before were making a comeback, boiling up from my stomach like vomit.

“Didn’t you?” he added insistently.

I leaned my forehead against the window, and looked out, unseeing, at the view. The silence stretched out while I wrestled with myself. “Yes,” I admitted finally, and it felt like a hard, tangled knot in my chest had been finally tugged loose. I squeezed my eyes shut, ashamed and afraid, clutching at the unravelling strands that had tied me, holding onto them tightly even as I yearned to cast them away. “What kind of person does that make me? To want so badly to be cared for by someone so evil…”

“It makes you human,” L’Mak responded kindly. He seated himself back in his armchair, watching me thoughtfully. “It is human nature to seek love and affection. You were a child, an orphan with no previous experience to guide you as to what those emotions should look like. She was the central figure in your life, usurping the place a mother should rightfully take. Is it so surprising that you would have done anything for her to show you a morsel of affection, that you feel pain that she did not?”

I said nothing. My eyes went longingly to the door, wanting nothing more than to leave and never come back. I couldn’t bear to talk about this, couldn’t stand the shame and self-loathing that was spreading through me like poison.

L’Mak sighed. “You judge yourself too harshly,” he said with sadness. “You hate yourself for idolising this woman, and yet it was entirely by _her_ design, not yours, that you did so. Her abuse was not limited to your body, Natasha. Why do you think she recruited her candidates so young? When it comes to physical training, yes, it is an advantage to start young, but the same applies to the mind. She moulded you from your earliest days, trained your mind to recognise her dominance, to obey her every word and whim, tying your love and loyalty to her and her alone. That you managed to exert your own free will after such conditioning is truly remarkable. You should be _proud_ , Natasha,” he insisted earnestly. “Do not dwell on the feelings she crafted in you; be proud that you had the strength of character to exert your independence in spite of them.”

I stared out of the window, trembling, unable to respond.

I sensed him sit back, felt his sympathetic smile. “That was why you didn’t shoot to kill, wasn’t it?” he said softly. “I’m guessing you wanted to. But you couldn’t, could you? Her hold over you was too great for that. And yet somehow you still managed to pull the trigger. You truly have no conception of how astounding that is, do you? Had I not seen the evidence with my own eyes –“ he indicated the device on the floor “- I would never have believed even you could achieve such a feat. To cause actual harm to the woman who dominated you from such a young age is astonishing, but that you managed to do so without surrendering your sanity is even more remarkable. I imagine it must have been incredibly painful.”

His sincere admiration was my downfall. A choked sob emerged from my throat, and I slid down the glass wall to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest to hide my face as I wept in grief and shame. I couldn’t deal with his appreciation, couldn’t feel that I had earned his esteem, not when my soul felt like it was crying out in agony for what I had done. The pain was raw and sharp, like razor blades were being dragged through my chest, and no logic could convince my gut that I didn’t deserve to be severely punished for my failure, for wilfully harming the woman I had loved and hated with equal fervour.

It took several minutes for me to regain control. L’Mak said no more until my sobs quieted, but I could feel his silent understanding. He tactfully averted his eyes while I scrubbed at my own with the heels of my hands, wiping my cheeks dry with my sleeve. I should probably invest in a handkerchief or a box of tissues or something. Finally regaining my composure, I stood up once more, and only then did L’Mak speak again. “There is no shame in what you felt, and still feel, for Madame B,” he told me, kindly, but firmly. “Such feelings are not only understandable but almost inevitable, for someone in your position.” Seeing that I remained unconvinced, he changed tack abruptly. “Are you familiar with Stockholm Syndrome?”

I nodded wearily, trudging back to the new seat that had replaced the one I had destroyed, and slumping back into it. “A psychological effect where a captive comes to feel a bond with their captor. Often found in kidnap victims. They develop feelings for their captor, even fall in love with them.”

“Precisely. There has been extensive research into that phenomenon, and it is still not fully understood, but it has been proven to occur not just in kidnap victims but in many other situations, including child abuse. A child’s mind is particularly susceptible to that kind of mental manipulation.” He leaned forward earnestly. “You were in a position where your survival was constantly threatened. The brain does not react in a rational manner to such stimuli. Creating an emotional attachment to your abuser is an illogical but very common survival mechanism. Such bonds are not lightly discarded, and re-bonding can occur, even years later, if contact is resumed.” He regarded me. “You recently came back into contact with her, after how long?”

“About twenty years,” I muttered uncomfortably.

He nodded significantly. “Which explains a great deal.”

“Does it?” I rolled my eyes irritably, suddenly sick to death of this whole intolerable situation. “This is all _fascinating_ , L’Mak –“ my sarcasm was biting “ – but what does it have to do with why I’m turning into a homicidal rage monster?”

“It has everything to do with it,” he said, as though that were obvious. “Your original reaction was prompted by pain. Deep emotional pain is just as damaging as physical torment.”

I grudgingly mulled that over. “You’re saying it’s not just the fact that I was tortured that caused me to react this way. I wasn’t just raging at Goravitch for what he was doing, I was mad at Madame for _letting_ him.”

He beamed in approval. “Quite so. And seeing her again may well have contributed to the erosion of those barriers in your mind that were keeping your powers in check. Your deep distress that she should abandon you to such torment is clearly a substantial factor in what prompted your mind to wall off those memories in the first place. By re-bonding with her, and at the same time rediscovering those memories, you placed yourself in a very similar situation, emotionally speaking, to the first time, which would explain why your reaction was identical.”

“I don’t have a bond with her!” I objected strenuously, revolted.

He smiled sadly. “I’m afraid all the evidence suggests you do.”

I glowered. “Well, fine, then I don’t _want_ a bond with her!” I snapped. “How do I _un_ -bond?”

He smiled. “You retrain your brain to recognise that you know what genuine bonds of love and affection look like, as opposed to the fictitious ones you created in childhood.” He nodded to the ring on my finger. “You wear a symbol of _real_ love on your finger. Use that to remind you, and look at Madame B again.”

I supressed a groan, but dutifully retrieved the device from the floor and put it back on. Clenching my jaw as the image of the woman reappeared, I tried to relax, twisting my ring around my finger, focussing on feeling the smoothness of the metal band, the way the diamond caught the light, the memory of the happiness I had felt when Melanie had given it to me, the joy that had been reflected in her eyes.

“What do you see, when you look at her?” L’Mak asked.

I considered, forcing myself to study her image analytically, still fingering my ring. “Isolation,” I said finally. “She let nothing touch her. Like ice, or marble. She felt no connection to others. People were just game pieces to her.”

“What game was she playing? What did she get out of it?”

“Power, I guess,” I said after a moment’s thought. “She was queen of her own little kingdom, with the power of life or death over everyone in it. She enjoyed it, the same way Goravitch enjoys inflicting pain.”

He nodded. “Direct power over others can be a heady drug. Some people become addicted to it. They are to be pitied.”

“Pitied?” I repeated incredulously.

“Oh yes, I pity all people like them,” he said, unperturbed by my somewhat outraged look. “They are far more severely damaged, mentally, than you will ever be. And while you will recover, the vast majority of people like them will not. Their minds are warped beyond healing. Some of them are born that way, but many of them were victims themselves. Had you been any less exceptional, you might well have ended up just like her.”

I shuddered, and hurriedly removed the headset again before it could give my thoughts away. _Tanya_ , I thought in despair. Was Tanya one of those severely damaged victims, warped beyond any hope of recovery?

L’Mak smiled kindly, for once misinterpreting my reaction. “Don’t worry. You are _not_ like her. You are amazingly resilient. I know I keep saying this, but you really don’t give yourself enough credit. The fact that you have functioned so effectively for so many years, that you are able to feel emotions such as love and caring and remorse, is nothing short of extraordinary considering your background.”

I flinched again, once more reminded miserably of Tanya. I had considered it miraculous at the time that she had been capable of loving me, despite everything she had endured. She had been able to feel love, feel caring, at least for me, but that hadn’t prevented her becoming Viper.

“Look at Madame B, Natasha,” L’Mak urged softly. “Look at her as she really is. Pity her for the poor, warped creature that she was. Don’t hate her for not giving you what you craved. Hatred is merely the betrayal of love. Understand, instead, that she was incapable of either giving or receiving it. Understand that it was the flaws in _her_ nature, not in yours, that prevented her from loving you.”

I bit my lip, and unwillingly replaced the device on my head. I tried my hardest, but all I felt on staring at that image was loathing, edged with bitter hurt and, though I was ashamed to admit it, a faint hint of longing. The fierce pleasure I had once felt at her scant words of praise, under those infrequent looks of approval, was not easy to forget. The child that had cherished those moments was still disturbingly present in the back of my mind.

L’Mak smiled kindly at my frustration. “I told you, these bonds are not easily discarded. They were many years in the making, you can’t expect to reprogram yourself just like that. Keep working on it. You’ll get there.”

“If you say so,” I muttered glumly.

He regarded me, then stood up. “I think that’s enough for today,” he said gently.

“Really?” For politeness sake, I tried to keep the eagerness in my voice to a minimum, but I sprang out of my seat as he stood up.

L’Mak laughed, not in the least offended. “Yes, you may be rid of me for today.”

“It’s not that I want to be rid of _you_ ,” I protested guiltily. “I actually like you, L’Mak. And I am grateful for the time you are putting in on me. It’s just…” I trailed off and swallowed. “Does it ever get any easier?”

He regarded me sympathetically. “Yes and no. Reflection is a skill of the mind, and like any other skill, it becomes easier with practice. Dealing with pain however… no, it never gets easier. Nor should we really wish it to. There’s another word for people who cannot feel pain, Natasha. You know what that is.”

I sighed. “Yes. Dead.”

“Precisely. So at least, take comfort that you are very much alive.” He smiled. “Why don’t you keep hold of that for the time being?” he suggested, indicating the device. “Practice makes perfect, as they say. You might find it easier in more comfortable surroundings.”

“I doubt it,” I muttered, but I dutifully held onto it. With a nod of farewell, I headed back through the door to my quarters, trudging down the isolated corridor.

Once back inside the relative comfort of my secure accommodation, I made myself some coffee and, rummaging in a tin, found a few pastries to eat with it. All this soul-searching left me craving something sweet, as though to wash the bitter aftertaste from my mouth.

Stretching out on the couch, licking sugar from my fingers, I regarded the device I had tossed onto a nearby table. I felt an unbelievably childish urge to hide it, smash it, ‘accidently’ flush it down the toilet or drop it out the window so that I never had to see Madame B’s image again… yet at the same time, I felt a strange compulsion to put it back on. Part of me _wanted_ to see her again, even though I knew it would hurt, like a sore tooth that I could not help but probe constantly with my tongue.

With a growl of annoyance, I stood up and tipped the dregs of my coffee down the sink, scouring the cup meticulously and wishing I could clean my mind with as much ease. Then I strode over to my little training area, feeling an overwhelming need to move. My brief stint as a shadow a few hours ago, though exhausting, did not count as exercise, and though the day had left me emotionally drained, I still had a lot of nervous physical energy left to burn. Jabbing the button to start the treadmill, I started walking, warming up my muscles, and quickly ramped up the speed to a full run. I tried to think of nothing at all, focussing on my breathing, settling into a comfortable stride. The steady thump of my feet on the conveyer belt was soothing.

I ran for half an hour, ending with a burst of full sprint. It felt good, but I was still restless. Casting around, I located the bag of belongings Bruce had brought on the quinjet and rummaged through it until I found the bandages I used for wrist support. Winding them quickly and securely into place, I took up my stance on the mat before the punchbag. Trying my hardest not to see faces in the rumpled leather, I began throwing punches, taking extra care with my technique.

After a while I was interrupted by a melodious gong. Looking around in confusion for the source of the sound, I blinked as a polite female voice spoke out of thin air. “Natasha Romanoff. You have a holo-call request. Would you like to receive the call?”

“Ah… sure?” I said uncertainly, unsure how to address the voice. I couldn’t tell if it was a real person, or a computer-simulated personality. “Yes, I’ll take it.” Immediately, I brightened. I hadn’t expected a call from my friends so soon.

“Connecting,” the voice intoned.

There was a flicker in the air, which swiftly resolved into a short female figure with spikey blonde hair.

“Oh,” I said, my face falling slightly as I looked at Viktoria. “It’s you.”

“Forgot about me, did you?” she said acidly. “Out of sight, out of mind? Did you forget that we had a deal?” She pointed her finger accusingly. “You promised me I wouldn’t have to sit in a cell!”

I rolled my eyes and looked around pointedly. “I imagine your _room_ –“ I stressed the word “ – looks pretty similar to this? Comfortable? Kitchen, bathroom, all the luxury amenities? Not to mention access to advanced holo-communications?”

She shrugged irritably. “So it’s a fancy cell. It’s still a prison. I can’t get out. What good are holo-communications when the only person I’m allowed to call is you? I’m going crazy staring at these walls!”

“Yeah, well, join the club,” I snapped, turning back to the punchbag and resuming my workout.

I felt her eyes follow my movements, then wander thoughtfully over the rest of the room. She strolled casually over to the door and inspected the DNA scanner. “You’re locked in too,” she observed, sounding surprised.

I didn’t bother to respond, attending strictly to my reps, putting a bit more force into my punches than necessary.

“Who did you kill?” she asked sardonically.

I gritted my teeth. “No-one.”

“So why are you in here making out with a punchbag? Don’t you have an evil organisation to keep from taking over the world?” Her sarcasm was biting.

I kept my eyes forward. “It’s being handled.”

“But not by you.” Viktoria looked as though she couldn’t decide whether to be worried or gleeful. She strode purposely to the couch and sat down. Her hologrammatic form made an actual physical impression on the cushions, which surprised me so much I actually stopped what I was doing to stare.

“I’ll give them one thing, these Wakandans have some seriously ingenious tech,” she remarked approvingly. “This is amazing!” She twisted her petite derriere this way and that, burrowing a deeper indentation in the cushion.

Fascinated in spite of myself, I moved closer and tentatively prodded Viktoria in the shoulder. The hologram felt entirely solid. _So that’s what Shuri meant by hard-light_ , I mused, impressed. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how this was achieved. How could you make light solid? Then it occurred to me that this was very similar to what I had experienced as a shadow, a form which, according to Melanie, had no physical structure whatsoever, was simply an _absence_ of light, and yet somehow could still take on corporeal form. I made a mental note to discuss the idea with Shuri. Perhaps whatever twisted rules of physics she applied in order to create this marvel would also apply to me…

“Er, hello?” Viktoria said crossly, breaking my train of thought. “Do you mind? Keep your hands to yourself!”

I blinked, realised I was still squeezing her shoulder, and withdrew my hand, embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry. Could you… er… feel that?”

“No, but it’s still weird,” Viktoria retorted waspishly. “I’ll thank you to remember I am not on the same bus as you and Viper, and I don’t appreciate other women touching me!”

“Oh grow up,” I snapped, annoyed. “I wasn’t touching you like that, and you know it! I’m not like her, I don’t force myself on people!”

“Whatever.” Viktoria averted her eyes with a petulant scowl. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on, or what?”

I shrugged evasively. “I’m sure you’ve been told. You’re here for a psychological assessment with a trusted expert. We want to be sure you’re mentally and emotionally stable, that you’re not going to cause problems in future if we turn you loose.”

She fixed me with a pointed stare. “I meant with you. Why are you locked up? What happened that day in the kitchen? What was going on with you, you looked like you were having a fit or something. And why the hell did your friends have dart guns?”

I sighed, and lowered myself heavily onto the opposite end of the couch. “It’s hard to explain.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Does it have anything to do with you knowing who Viper was?”

I scowled. “Her name is Tanya, not Viper. And yes. Sort of.”

She looked torn between glee and revulsion. “So you did have a thing with her!”

I returned a non-committal shrug. “She was my apprentice.”

Viktoria snorted. “Yeah, and the rest. I’m not stupid, you know. You were _involved_.”

I shrugged again, averting my face. “We were close, for a short time.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t end well,” she observed after a pause.

“You could say that,” I said bitterly. “I had to abandon her. She trusted me to save her, and I failed. I thought she was dead, that it was my fault. I’ve never forgiven myself…” I suddenly realised I was talking way too much, and clapped my mouth shut, cursing this place under my breath. All this sharing was getting to me.

“Ah,” she remarked knowingly. “So that’s why you were upset. Because you still have feelings for her, but now you have to kill her.”

I flinched, and involuntarily slid a little further away from her. Her blunt statement made my heart rate go up again, which at least gave me an excuse not to respond as I concentrated on calming down, breathing slowly in and out.

She watched me with a suspicious frown.

“You should be careful what you say to me,” I said, reasonably calmly, once my heart rate steadied. “Provoking me is seriously unwise right now.”

Viktoria snorted. “What are you going to do, go nuts and try to kill me?”

“Yes.”

That took her aback. “Oh.” She eyed me searchingly. “You’re serious. You’d really go nuts? Is that why your friends tried to tranq you?” She took my silence as agreement, and her bewilderment intensified. “But – _why_?”

I groaned. I really didn’t want to get into this with her. “It’s complicated, all right?”

“Well neither of us seem to be going anywhere,” she said bitingly. “And you did break your word, so you owe me an explanation.”

I glared, but in fairness, I had to admit she had a point. “Fine,” I said grudgingly. “If you must know, I have superpowers. I only recently discovered that fact, and I can’t control them yet. They manifest when I get upset, and I end up destroying pretty much everything and everyone within reach. Hence my current living arrangements.” I gestured at the impregnable room bitterly.

Viktoria blinked rapidly. “Superpowers?” She eyed me, her brow furrowing with annoyance. “You’re messing with me.”

“God I wish I were.” I ran a hand through my hair tiredly. I was getting another headache, a bad one, right behind the eyeballs. How did people even function when they had to deal with petty aches and pains like this all the time? I wasn’t used to having to put up with such inconveniences. I wondered if Shuri had supplied any painkillers in her comprehensive stocking of the small kitchenette, and got up to check.

Behind me, I sensed Viktoria’s expression change from anger to disbelief. “You’re serious? Superpowers? Really?”

I performed a mocking theatrical bow, and continued searching the kitchen. Shuri had indeed been thorough. In a drawer, I found a bottle of aspirin. Shaking a couple of fat round pills out onto my palm, I hesitated, frowning, wondering what dose to take. I had never actually needed to take aspirin before this, so I wasn’t sure how effective it was. Assuming it would have any effect at all before my over-zealous metabolism reduced the drug to so many waste particles. I sighed in aggravation, and my head gave another throb. Oh well. It was worth a try. I shook out half a dozen, paused, then added a couple more for good measure. I filled a glass with water at the sink, and swallowed them down.

Turning back to my uninvited guest, I found Viktoria watching me with a faintly worried expression. “You know, you’re not really supposed to take that many of those at once.”

“I’m touched by your concern,” I said sardonically. “But you needn’t worry. Drugs don’t work very well on me. I could probably take the whole bottle and it wouldn’t cause anything worse than mild indigestion.” I couldn’t prevent a slight bitter edge creeping into my tone at that.

“Huh.” Viktoria seemed unwillingly impressed. “So… superpowers? What happened? Did you have an industrial accident? Get trapped in a lab full of radiation? Get bitten by an alien? Do you have an alien parasite living inside you?” She sounded like she relished the possibility.

I rolled my eyes. I was doing that so often lately it was a wonder I didn’t have permanent eye strain. “Nothing so exotic. Goravitch pumped me full of chemicals, and then tortured me for a few months.”

“Oh.” She had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry.”

I shrugged, returning to my seat on the opposite end of the couch.

She eyed me curiously. “So what do you do? Do you have super strength? Are you like a little mini Hulk? Hulkette? Do you turn green?”

“No I don’t turn green!” I snapped, insulted. Hulkette indeed! I was tempted to tell her my power was _way_ cooler than that, but I stopped myself. I really didn’t want to get into a detailed discussion of what I could and couldn’t do, particularly as I didn’t know half the answers yet myself.

Undaunted by my reluctance to elaborate, she pressed on. “What do you mean you only recently discovered it? How can you _not_ know you have superpowers?”

I supressed another groan. Her voice was corkscrewing right into the middle of my headache. “I supressed all memory of what Goravitch did to me, so I didn’t know anything about it, and it stayed trapped behind walls in my head. Until a few weeks ago, when… something happened to make me remember.” I determinedly avoided looking at her.

“Ouch,” she commented after a moment, sounding unexpectedly sympathetic. But then again, she too had experienced Goravitch’s idea of entertainment. “So that’s why you go nuts when you get upset? It’s like PTSD? You think you’re back there with him, and you’re lashing out with your powers?”

Surprised at her astuteness, I shrugged again.

“Ouch,” she repeated with a grimace. I felt unexpectedly touched by her sympathy. Then the moment passed. She grinned suddenly, her face lighting up with devilish glee. “That’s why you’re here! Because you have PTSD! You’re here to see the shrink!” She laughed outright as my fists clenched. “Oh that’s priceless! Sorry world, the Black Widow can’t come save you today, she has a two o’clock with her therapist!”

I gritted my teeth. “Viktoria, I’m warning you!”

“Did he show you ink blots yet?” she asked mockingly. “Have you been sharing your feelings? Did you cry?”

“Not as much as you will when I punch you in the face!”

“I’m a hologram, it won’t hurt.”

“Want to test that theory?”

She tutted pityingly. “You shouldn’t externalise your anger issues on me. Your therapist wouldn’t approve.”

“Oh shut up,” I said in disgust.

“Make me!” She stood up, fists raised in readiness. “Bring it on! Its been months since my last good fight!”

I snorted. “Sure, _now_ you want to fight me, when you’re a hologram. What’s the matter, too scared to fight me in the flesh? Afraid I’ll wipe the floor with that tiny little ass?”

“I’ll come fight you for real any time you like!” she snarled back. “Just come let me out of this cell _you_ _promised you wouldn’t put me in_!”

“It’s not a goddamn cell!”

“So let me out!”

“I can’t even get out of my own pissing room, how am I supposed to let you out of yours?”

“So you agree it’s a cell!”

“What’s going on in here?” a new voice interrupted.

Brought abruptly to the awareness that I was standing nose to nose with Viktoria, both of us yelling as though we were communicating from opposite sides of a football pitch, I sucked in a calming breath, and turned around.

Melanie stood beside the door, arms crossed, studying us with raised brows.

“Oh great,” Viktoria said rudely. “It’s your booty call.”

“Fiancé,” I growled.

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll leave you to your lesbian shenanigans.” She fixed me with a defiant scowl. “But we’re not done. I’m warning you, you’d better let me out of here, or you’ll regret it!”

“I’ll arrange for you to have an escorted tour of Wakanda tomorrow,” Melanie said coolly before I could utter a sharp retort. “Apologies for neglecting your entertainment, but we’ve been a little busy trying to track down your former employer. You know, the one who tortured you and stashed a poison capsule in your guts?”

Viktoria pursed her lips, her scowl deepening. “Well alright then,” she muttered sullenly. Then she glanced about. “How do I even turn this thing off?”

Melanie picked up the room control tablet from the side and tapped an icon. The hologram winked out of existence, much to my relief. I made a mental note to check who was calling before accepting next time. I avoided my lover’s eyes, angry and embarrassed that Viktoria had got under my skin so easily. It had been a long and difficult day, but that was hardly an excuse for such behaviour.

Melanie wisely made no reference to the incident, moving to the kitchenette and filling the kettle, her actions comfortingly prosaic as she prepared a pot of tea. “Want a cuppa?” she asked casually.

I shrugged. “Sure.” I wasn’t really a fan of tea, under normal circumstances, but these circumstances were anything but normal. I would welcome anything that would give me even a fleeting pretence that this was just a regular day. I slumped back onto the sofa as she added tea and milk to two mugs, stirred, then brought them over. She settled on the sofa beside me, handing me a mug. I realised I was still wearing my wrist protection, and carefully placed my tea on the coffee table while I unwound the bandages.

Melanie opened her mouth, and I hurriedly cut across her before she could ask how my therapy session went. “So how come you’re back so early? Shouldn’t you still be in the lab?” I winced inwardly at how accusatory that sounded, but the thought that she was neglecting important work to check on me made me feel confusingly happy and angry at the same time, and that pissed me off. I was sick to death of all these conflicting emotions.

Being Melanie, she didn’t take offence at my harsh tone; I winced again as she fixed me with a look of compassionate understanding. “I’m not needed for the moment,” she answered, sipping her tea. “We’re running diagnostics on several different batches of samples; now that they’re all set up, we just need to let it run for a few days while we track the progression. Bruce is keeping an eye on things, but it didn’t really need both of us, so he suggested maybe we should spend some time together while we have the chance.” She eyed me somewhat hopefully, and I couldn’t help but bestow a smile that quickly vanished again as she added, “L’Mak says your session went well.”

“He must have very low standards,” I muttered, scowling.

“Well, you didn’t freak out again,” she pointed out. “That must be a positive sign, right? You must be getting better at handling all that negative stuff?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Unwillingly, my eyes rested on the contraption lying on the table.

Melanie’s eyes followed mine. She hesitated, seeing my dark expression, then tentatively asked, “What’s that?”

“Another of Shuri’s gadgets,” I replied sourly. “L’Mak has been having a good dig around inside my subconscious.”

Melanie winced. “That can’t have been fun.” She cast me an inquiring glance, and at my gestured permission, picked up the device, turning it over in her hands. “What does it do? How does it work?” she asked, her professional curiosity surfacing.

I sighed. “It scans my brain, and spits out a hologrammatic image based on my unconscious reaction to whatever we’re talking about. You’ll have to ask Shuri how, I don’t even pretend to understand it.” The compulsion to put it on I had felt earlier was back. Strangely, Melanie’s presence didn’t diminish it at all; if anything, it became stronger. Instead of wanting to hide my shame from her, I inexplicably yearned to share it with her, share the burden that felt too heavy for myself alone to carry. I hesitated, then gently took the device from her. A flash of surprise and gratitude, mixed with apprehension, crossed her face as I put it on. _Mother_ , I said firmly inside my head.

Melanie blinked in confusion as the hologram of the impassive woman appeared before us. Clearly, she had expected something more graphic and horrifying than this. Then she frowned, studying the figure. “That’s… is that Madame B?”

“Yes.” My voice was calm, though my insides were churning. I looked at the image with loathing. “Apparently my subconscious is under the delusion that she is my mother.”

Melanie grimaced. “I suppose that makes sense. She did raise you, in a twisted way.”

“Very twisted,” I agreed sourly, wincing at unwelcome memories of just how warped her rearing had been. Unfortunately, the device reacted to the intrusive thought. Melanie sucked in a sharp breath in horrified outrage at the image that was briefly revealed before I hastily tore the device from my head. She stared blankly at the spot where the hologram had been, waves of distress radiating from her.

With a calmness I did not feel, I carefully replaced the device on the table and picked up my mug of tea once more. The warmth and slightly bitter taste was reassuring.

After a long moment, Melanie exhaled slowly. “What was that?” she asked softly.

I stared into my tea and said nothing.

Melanie swallowed hard, then resolutely pushed on. “You don’t have to tell me anything. If you want to just tell L’Mak, that’s fine, that’s his job after all. But if you do want to tell me… I’m here for you. I love you, Nat. _All_ of you. Even the parts you think I should despise, or the parts you think are too horrifying for me to deal with. They’re all part of what makes you _you_ , and I will love you no matter what. I don’t expect you to fall into my arms and sob out your whole scary past. If you’d rather not talk about it with me, then don’t. But if you do want to, if sharing some things with me will help, then please don’t deny yourself that because you’re trying to protect me or some such nonsense.” She smiled at me a little sadly. “You were brave enough to tell me the truth before, even though you knew it would hurt me. Is this really so different?”

I bit my lip, still staring into my mug. She said nothing more, quietly drinking her tea. “It was… how she used to punish me,” I said finally. “She would specify a position, and I had to hold it, remain completely still. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes while she hurt me, or instructed someone else to. She told me I deserved it, and I believed her. She told me if I was unable to bear the punishment I deserved, I would be weak, and the weak die. And afterwards…” I lowered my head, my eyes hot and dry and aching with tears that would not come, “she would be pleased that I was strong enough to endure.” I shivered, tremors of pain and shame rippling over my body. “But the really sick part about it? Sometimes I disobeyed on purpose. I wanted her to punish me. It was worth it, for those few moments when she would praise me for being strong…”

“Oh Nat…” Melanie whispered.

I couldn’t look at her, and wisely she refrained from trying to touch me right now, though I could feel that she ached to hold me.

We sat in silence for a time, drinking our tea. I could feel her mind working next to me, no doubt replaying my words, examining them from every angle, analysing the data like the scientist she was. I sensed her drawing conclusions, and forming some kind of hypothesis.

“When you say she hurt you…” she murmured finally. She hesitated. “Was it… did she ever…?”

“No,” I answered the question she was struggling to phrase. “Her abuse was never sexual. I’m not sure she was even capable of physical arousal, and if she was, she wouldn’t have allowed herself to feel it over a female. Such desires were an abomination to her. Perhaps that’s why she never had a man force me either. I _was_ punished that way a couple of times, but not by her. For her it was all about power. Forcing me to submit to her will, to obey her no matter how much pain I was in.”

She shuddered, even as some of her tension lessened at my answer. Putting her mug down, she picked up the device again, turning it over in her fingers thoughtfully. Then she looked up. “Could we try something?” she asked speculatively.

Warily, I nodded, and she gently replaced the device on my head. “Love,” she said clearly.

My eyes widened as the hologram appeared. Melanie stared, momentarily taken aback, her skin flushing deep red. For a second I thought she was offended, then to my relief she began to titter. In moments we were both giggling helplessly, collapsing into each other’s arms. The closeness and laughter felt good, draining away the tension.

“Oh my,” Melanie sniggered after a while, pulling herself upright to examine the image once more. “Is that really what I look like when I -?” she couldn’t finish, relapsing into gales of laughter again. Finally, she managed to stop with an effort. “Seriously impressive,” she remarked, her eyes on the device on my head. “I just hope L’Mak isn’t planning for you to talk about me while you’re wearing that. Or Tanya for that matter. It might throw out all sorts of inappropriate things!” Then her eyes widened and she gave a swift cough. “Like, ah, that for example.”

“Huh?” I glanced where she was looking. “Oh!” I flushed scarlet to the roots of my hair as I realised the device had once again reacted to my unruly thoughts, and hastily snatched it from my head. The hologrammatic object floating in the air immediately vanished.

“Care to explain?” Melanie said, determinedly calm.

I grimaced. “That was, um, Doris.” I looked up pleadingly. “It was for training purposes only, I swear! It was necessary…”

Melanie just raised an eyebrow.

Raising my eyes heavenward, I furiously tried to contain my embarrassment. “I told you, Tanya had to pass the Night Master’s test!”

She recoiled sharply, sliding away from me. “ _That’s_ what she had to do for that test?” She looked stunned and a little sick. “ _That’s_ what this… Night Master… taught you?”

I stared at her blankly. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that she wouldn’t have made the connection. I had mentioned it, when I had made my confession, but I hadn’t gone into details, I hadn’t thought I needed to. The title seemed perfectly self-explanatory to me. But apparently, not to her.

“Of course,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “You said it yourself, we were trained to use our… natural advantages. You can hardly learn those sort of skills without hands-on experience. You don’t really think they would send a virgin out to seduce targets, do you?”

She swallowed hard. “I guess not,” she said faintly. She bit her lip. “So the Night Master… he… you…”

Sighing, I scooted closer and took her hand. “Yes,” I answered the unspoken question gently. “We had to learn about sex, and we couldn’t do it on our own. Dalliance between students was strictly forbidden. The Night Master was our instructor, for the girls anyway.” I briefly wondered if the boys had also been subjected to such training, and who had been responsible for that, before dismissing the irrelevant thought. “No-one survived the Red Room without proving that we had learned his lessons thoroughly.”

Melanie released a muffled sob.

I squeezed her hand, wrapped my other arm around her, holding her close. “Hey,” I murmured softly. “It’s okay. It wasn’t as bad as you think, really. Not for me anyway.” Of course Melanie would assume the worst. She, like Tanya, could not imagine anything more repellent. I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t as horrific as it sounds. I thought it would be. Until the Night Master first visited me in the night, I had only ever been taken by force, as a punishment.” I swallowed hard. “When he came to me… I thought at first that I had done something wrong, that he was there to punish me. But he was… surprisingly gentle. He told me that sex was a tool, one that I could learn to use. That it could be used to punish yes, but many other things as well. To control, distract, beguile. Or to reward. He told me he would show me how to do all of those things, but that first night, I had earned a reward…” I trailed off, suddenly aware that Melanie was stiff and uncomfortable in my arms. I coughed uneasily. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was still business. Still a lesson. There was more to learning about sex than simply being able to please a man. He told me it was essential I knew how it could feel for me too, that there were men out there that I would enjoy, and it was important that I experienced that, so I would be prepared for it, so no-one could turn the tables on me…”

“God forbid you take your eye off the target because of an unexpected orgasm,” Melanie muttered into my shoulder.

“Well, yes, exactly,” I replied. “I had to know what it felt like either way.” I eased her out of my arms so I could meet her eyes anxiously. “Does that bother you?” I asked in a small voice. “That I enjoyed it?”

She sighed. “In one way, yes. I want to _murder_ him for laying hands on you, the perverted bastard! I mean for god’s sake you must have only been what, fifteen? Sixteen? It’s disgusting! But in another way…” She sighed again, and laid her head back on my shoulder, her arms tightening around me. “If that was part of your mandatory training, I guess it could have been a lot worse. I was afraid…” She stopped before she completed the thought.

I just kissed her, relieved that she understood. She relaxed back into my embrace, and we snuggled together on the couch. She returned my kisses a little distractedly, however, and I could tell we were not yet done with this conversation. I sighed inwardly, but dutifully waited while she mulled it over.

“So,” she said eventually. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Tanya struggled with… that side of things, I take it.”

I supressed a groan. I really, really didn’t want to talk about this… but neither did I want my fiancé’s overactive imagination to torment her. “Yes, she did,” I said, trying to keep my voice matter-of-fact. “She wasn’t remotely interested in men. She fought it, and it made the whole thing… pretty traumatic for her. But if she couldn’t pass that test, they would have killed her.”

“Jesus,” Melanie muttered, sickened. “Poor Tanya.”

I blinked, although I wasn’t sure why I was surprised that she could feel sorry for her. She had enough empathy and compassion for three people.

“So that was what the dildo was for,” she surmised.

I flushed again, but grudgingly nodded. “I thought if she learned it could be pleasurable, with me, it would help her stop fighting it, give her a good memory to help her get through it…”

She nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. I waited, quailing, wondering what was coming.

“And did she?” she asked finally, very quietly. “Find it pleasurable?”

I gulped. “Ah… yes,” I said carefully. “Once she… relaxed a bit, she realised it… wasn’t that bad.”

She reached up to touch my face, her serious eyes gazing into mine. “And you?” she murmured, an odd note in her voice. “Did you enjoy it too?”

I squirmed, acutely uncomfortable. “Maybe,” I muttered wretchedly.

She raised an eyebrow, staring me down.

I winced. “Alright, alright. Yes, I let her use it on me, and yes, I enjoyed it,” I admitted reluctantly. “But I only did it to help her relax, I swear, I would never have done it otherwise. I would never have done _anything_ like that with her if it hadn’t been her life on the line. It killed me when I first saw it, I didn’t want to do that with her, I wanted it to be you…” I gulped, suddenly realising how that sentence might be misconstrued, and reddened still further. “I mean, if I _was_ going to do that, I would have preferred it to be you. Not that I’m saying that I _want_ to do that! That’s why I didn’t tell you about the dildo, I swear I wasn’t trying to hide anything, I just didn’t want you to feel pressured! Not that there is any pressure! I’m totally happy just us, who needs accessories, you’re amazing just as you are…”

Melanie laid a finger gently over my lips, silencing my babbling, the corners of her mouth twitching. She gazed at me intently for a long moment, her expression unreadable, then stood up. “One second.”

I watched, bewildered, as she opened a cupboard and began rummaging through her own bag of belongings, pulling out a gift-wrapped box and a drawstring bag that looked to have been buried right at the bottom. “Mel?” I asked uncertainly. “What are you doing?”

She carefully sat back down beside me, placing the bag on the floor, and held the box on her knee. “I was, ah, saving this for your birthday,” she murmured, looking embarrassed. “But I guess it’s not actually that far off anyway, and under the circumstances… well, here.” She cleared her throat awkwardly, and pressed the box into my hands.

My brows rose, feeling more perplexed than ever, and weirdly choked up. I had never, in my entire life, received a gift-wrapped anything, never mind so suddenly and unexpectedly. Then, seen as that was what she seemed to expect from me, I slid my finger under the paper, splitting the tape, and unwrapped it. I lifted the lid of the nondescript cardboard box inside, and gasped, my jaw dropping. For a moment I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I looked up at Melanie, still open-mouthed, and she giggled nervously, blushing. “I’ve had it a while,” she answered my unspoken question. “Since before you went back in time, actually. After we had that little chat on the island, and you told me how much you liked it, how much you used to crave it...” Her blush deepened. “I thought maybe you might miss it.”

“No!” I hastened to deny it emphatically. “No, of course not, how could I miss anything when I have you, you’re amazing! But…” I stopped, lost for words, staring at the deep blue dildo in the box. Like Doris, it was made of a single piece of supple silicone, but unlike the one I had used to help Tanya, this one was clearly not designed to be worn internally. Beside it sat an intricate contraption of soft leather straps that I assumed would hold it in the appropriate position. I noticed a bulge, which on closer inspection proved to be a small vibrator built into the harness. Evidently wearing this would be as stimulating for both partners as Doris had been, albeit in a slightly different way. I licked my lips, abruptly assaulted by every fantasy I had been privately entertaining. The thought of Melanie wearing this, using it, filling me with it, her cries of ecstasy ringing out in time with mine as she plunged into me… the thoughts inspired an instant rush of pure lust, and I was hard pressed not to yank the thing out of the box and strap it on her there and then. But I was still confused. If she had had this for so long, why had she kept it hidden? “You had this… before…we could have…?” I cursed my incoherence and tried again. “Why didn’t you…?”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “I kept chickening out,” she admitted, going, if possible, even redder in the face.

I studied her for a long moment, then, understanding dawning, I gently laid the box to one side and folded her in my arms. “You’ve never done that before?”

She shook her head, hiding her face in my shoulder. “I never trusted anyone enough, and I was too embarrassed to admit I was scared, so I just avoided anything like that,” she confessed sheepishly. “But the way you talked about it… I wanted to be able to give you that, so I ordered the strap-on discreetly on the internet, but then I couldn’t bring myself to give it to you. I want to please you, but I was scared in case you… I mean I wasn’t sure what to do if you –“

“Wanted to return the favour?” I finished gently.

She gulped in acute embarrassment. “Yes, that.”

I kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tightly, overflowing with love. “You beautiful idiot,” I murmured into her hair. “You really think I would force that on you if you didn’t want it?”

She laughed shakily. “Not exactly.”

I frowned. “Oh?” Then realisation dawned. “Oh!” She wasn’t anxious that she would offend me by not wanting me to reciprocate. She was nervous because she _did_ want me to, and that very longing scared her. As ridiculous as it seemed, in that single respect, Melanie was still a virgin. Her sudden shyness was if anything more arousing than her usual confidence. I caught her face, tilting it back towards me when she would have hidden it again, and kissed her lingeringly. “I would never rush you into anything,” I murmured. “But I would be happy to show you how good it can be, if you ask me.”

She smiled shyly. “Maybe I will.” Then her smile widened, and her air of vulnerability vanished. “But for now…” She reached out and trailed a finger along the silicone shaft. “How badly do you want me to fuck you with this right now?”

I laughed, surprised but delighted at her sudden boldness. “Frankly, I can’t think of anything I want more,” I told her truthfully. The ache in my lower belly was becoming more powerful by the second. I eagerly moved to extract the dildo from the box, then paused in confusion as she stopped me.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she scolded lightly. “Not so fast. I told you, this was your birthday surprise. Even if it is early, I still want to do it properly. So why don’t you go clean up after your workout while I get ready?”

I raised an eyebrow curiously, then shrugged. “All right.” I eyed the drawstring bag at her feet. I had a good idea what it might contain, and what she had planned, so I stood up and made for the shower without protest. “Don’t take too long though.” I wasn’t sure how long I could stand to wait.

She chuckled. “I’ll take as long as I take. But don’t worry, it will be worth it.”

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” I replied, smiling to myself as I entered the bathroom and closed the screen. I peeled off my clothing and got in the shower, trying not to strain my ears for clues as to what she was up to. Concentrating on soaping dried sweat from my body, I resisted the temptation to ease some of the tension tightening my loins. As much as I craved relief, I disciplined myself to hold out in happy anticipation that the wait would make the already satisfying climax I expected truly mind-blowing. I cleansed myself meticulously, but that didn’t take that long, and I could still hear movement next door, so I reached for my razor and ensured everything that should be was perfectly smooth, and then for the scissors to trim what little remained. Melanie disapproved of women who fully shaved, she said it made her feel like a paedophile. Like she was making love to a prepubescent girl. I chuckled indulgently while I dried myself, remembering how that had made me laugh. Judging that she must have had enough time by now for whatever she was doing, I fussily tidied up, then paused, debating whether to put my clothes back on or not. Undressing was an important part of our foreplay, she always made it feel so special, like I was a precious gift she was so excited to unwrap, but I wasn’t sure I could stand any more delays tonight. I wanted her inside me so badly it felt like there was a fire between my legs. So I left my clothing on the floor and stepped out naked.

I almost stumbled, my jaw dropping, my eyes bulge in their sockets.

Melanie smiled seductively, lounging in a deliberately provocative pose on the bed, as though inviting me to admire the view. I swallowed hard, my heart in my throat. I had been expecting a departure from her usual nice-but-practical underwear, but this…!

Her smile widened to a grin, well satisfied by my reaction. Sliding gracefully off the bed, she walked slowly towards me, exaggerating the sway of her hips. The black leather corset fitted her like a glove, displaying her slender figure to excellent advantage, and enhancing her modest cleavage to eye-popping proportions. Her golden hair hung in an intricate braid over one shoulder. Her underwear was black lace, attached with beribboned suspenders to the matching stockings that encased her long, shapely legs, but most of the scant material was hidden beneath the straps of the harness that supported the pendulous column of silicone between her legs. In her hand, she held a thin leather riding crop.

“What do you think?” she asked coyly, tapping the crop lazily against her thigh.

I exhaled a long breath, unable to tear my eyes away. “You look…” I trailed off, mesmerised by the rise and fall of her breasts above the corset.

She chuckled softly.

“Amazing!” I said hurriedly, snapping out of it. “You look amazing! I just, ah, wasn’t expecting anything so… so…” I faltered again, not sure what I was trying to say.

Her smile widened. “Well,” she said composedly. “You seemed to enjoy it when I took control before. So I thought we might play another little game.” There was a positively wicked glint in her eyes. “I know how much you used to like playing games.”

“Um.” I swallowed again, intensely aroused, watching that impressive erection sway closer, but also uneasy. We had talked about straying from vanilla sex a few times, and it was true, I had admitted to her that I had indulged in, and enjoyed, some less conventional activities in the past. But I had always taken the dominant role, and that clearly was not what Melanie had in mind.

She came closer, and walked around me, trailing her fingertips lightly over my bare skin. “You’re nervous, all of a sudden,” she observed softly. She halted behind me and pressed herself up against my back, kissing my neck, her fingertips stroking down to my hip. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” I answered truthfully, quivering as I felt the cool, rigid protrusion against the small of my back. And I did, I knew I did, a trust that was bone-deep and unshakable. My apprehension had nothing to do with my trust in her; I knew she would never hurt me. I told myself I was simply… disorientated, that was all. I hadn’t realised her plans had included this, hadn’t expected it. And even if I had, I wouldn’t have expected _this_. My fantasies about such things had always featured Melanie in the submissive role, not me. I had never, _ever_ allowed anyone to make me a sub. My need for control made that impossible, even if I had wanted to, which I most assuredly had not. I felt a deep, reflexive aversion to the idea of being submissive, of someone dominating me, like Madame B had dominated me, her rule over me absolute even if it had never been sexual. I flinched away from the thought. “I’m… not sure about this,” I mumbled, my mouth dry.

Melanie stepped out to face me again, pouting. “But I thought you wanted this,” she said innocently, cupping her fake member in her hand. She sighed in seeming disappointment. “But I guess if you’ve changed your mind, I can take this off.” She slid a finger under a strap, as though preparing to remove her ensemble.

“No!” I blurted hurriedly. “No, I do want it, I do! It’s just… this is so unlike you.”

She shrugged slightly, smiling. “Maybe I discovered I like being in charge occasionally. And I’ve been doing some reading after that last chat we had, and I decided maybe I would like to play a few of those games you used to like so much… but only if I’m on top. That’s what turns me on.” She looked at me coyly from beneath her lashes. “So what do you think? Want to play?”

I gazed at her, distinctly torn. As it had once before, her surprising masterfulness inflamed me, but despite my arousal, and my unquestioned trust in her, the idea of completely surrendering control frightened me.

Melanie smiled, seeing my conflict. “Trust me,” she murmured, kissing my shoulder. “If you don’t like it, we’ll go back to vanilla. I promise.”

I nodded slowly. “All right. But… no bondage, okay?” Too many of my worst memories involved restraints.

She nodded, her expression softening. “Agreed.” Then she gave me a little tap with the crop. “Okay then. For the next couple of hours, I am your mistress, and you will do everything I say.”

I raised an eyebrow, but nodded again. “Yes mistress.”

“Excellent,” she said brightly. She turned on a pointed heel – I had never seen her in heels before, and had to wonder how long she had been secretly practicing to walk so steadily – and swayed in an exaggerated fashion to the cupboard, opening it and extracting a pair of stilettos. Bright red ones. I made a mental note to search that cupboard thoroughly; I wasn't sure I could cope with any more surprises coming out of it! “Put these on.”

“Um, okay?” I replied, slightly confused.

She frowned sternly at me. “Just do it.”

Shrugging to myself, I obediently donned the heels. It had been considerable time since I had worn such things. I shifted my weight fractionally from foot to foot, letting my body remember how to move in them. There had been a time when I could run, fight and kill in six inch heels, and muscle memory was stronger than any other kind.

“Nice,” Melanie remarked, licking her lips appreciatively. “Now fetch me a drink.”

“Of course mistress,” I replied, getting into the swing of it. Feeling slightly ridiculous pottering around the kitchen in nothing but a pair of bright red heels, I nonetheless searched until I found a bottle of wine, and poured her a generous glass. Meanwhile, she lounged on the bed, her pupils dilated with arousal as she watched me walk back towards her and hand her the glass. Apparently me naked in heels was a personal fantasy of hers; she certainly seemed to be struggling to contain her excitement as she imperiously instructed me to walk up and down, her hand trembling slightly as she sipped her wine, her eyes wandering boldly over my curves. My tension started to ease, and I even started to enjoy myself, a touch of swagger entering my walk, secretly loving how the way I moved delighted her.

“All right, enough of that,” she said eventually. She lazily set her wineglass aside. “Now I’m in the mood for something sweet. Check the fridge.”

“Right away mistress,” I replied, smiling. I had my suspicions as to what she had in mind now, and sure enough, some rootling in the fridge uncovered a large pot of chocolate mousse. “Will you be needing a spoon?” I asked innocently over my shoulder.

Melanie chuckled. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary. No need to give ourselves washing up. Come here.”

I made haste to oblige, enjoying the way her eyes lingered on the sway of my hips. “Your mousse, mistress,” I said, batting my eyelashes.

She grinned wickedly. “Very good. Now get on your knees.” I obeyed somewhat awkwardly, it not being the easiest manoeuvre in six inch heels even for me, then watched with interest as she delicately peeled off the top of the pot. Dipping a finger into the mousse, she offered her chocolatey digit to me. Nothing loathe, I eagerly sucked it clean. Her lips curved suggestively, and stirred her finger in the pot again before this time exposing one beautiful breast and anointing it. More than happy with how this was going, I moved to lick her clean, and stopped, shocked as she gave me a sudden sharp spank with the crop. “Naughty, naughty,” she scolded, wagging the crop under my nose. “I didn’t say you could do that, did I? I’m in charge remember?”

Somewhat non-plussed, I dutifully lowered by eyes. “I’m terribly sorry mistress. It won’t happen again.”

“I should think so,” she said tartly. She pursed her lips, and left me hanging for another minute, which meant the mousse had melted and run, the happy consequence being I had to lick and suckle almost her entire breast when I was eventually instructed to clean it. Feeling a delicious sense of rebellion, once she liberally coated her other breast I repeated my ‘mistake’, earning myself another spank, another tantalising wait, and another opportunity to worship every part of her breast with my tongue as I lapped up the sticky chocolate.

Melanie’s eyes gleamed wickedly, and this time the mousse was trailed in a line down the length of silicone between her legs. “Clean,” she ordered, placing her shaft level with my mouth.

Smirking inwardly, I proceeded to do as instructed, and had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen as I proceeded to showcase my considerable experience with the act I was imitating. It seemed she had not been prepared for such enthusiasm. She stared in open-mouthed incredulity as I took in its entire length without gagging. “Bloody hell,” she breathed, and I felt a little surge of pride in my skill.

Then she recovered herself, pulling the dildo out of my mouth. “All right, enough of that. Get on the bed.”

I was eager to comply, but she forbade me to touch her, my attempt earning me another sharp spank with the crop. Cursing under my breath, I awaited my next instruction.

“On your knees again,” she ordered. “Face the wall. Now bury your face in the mattress, and stick that beautiful ass in the air. Higher! That’s right. Now spread your legs wider. Keep that ass in the air. Now spread your arms out.”

I obeyed more slowly this time, an involuntary tremble rippling my flesh. This was one of the positions Madame B used to demand, grovelling at her feet, every vulnerable part of my body exposed to whatever torment she chose to inflict. I knew that Melanie was fully aware of that fact, because that was exactly what Shuri’s subconscious probe had showed her not even an hour earlier. I almost questioned her sanity, except I felt her pause, sensing my sudden tension, waiting to see if I would ask her to stop. Her concern calmed me, reminded me I was safe with someone who loved and cared about me, and that whatever her reasons for doing this, it would not be to cause me pain. I silently assumed the position, and after a long moment she continued. “Very nice,” she purred, nestling in behind me and running her hands over my buttocks. “You do have a magnificent ass, Natasha Romanoff. I would go so far as to say it’s the best one I’ve ever had the pleasure of handling.” I bit back a moan as her hand dipped between my legs, testing my level of arousal. “Dearie me,” she tutted. “This won’t do at all. I want you so wet my cock will slide right in without lube. We’ve got a long way to go yet, I think.”

The mattress stifled my moan of pure frustration. This was torture, pure and simple. The ache in my groin was no intense it was almost painful, my opening eager and ready for her, no additional lubrication required. Gritting my teeth, I resisted the almost overwhelming urge to touch myself since she refused to, and held my position.

I heard a rustle and, squinting between my legs, saw her opening the drawstring bag. I swallowed at what came out, but didn’t protest as she eased the blindfold over my head, denying me sight. Straining my ears, I heard her rummaging in the bag again, and had to supress a shiver that threatened to become a tremble. I knew that nothing she was about to do would hurt me, but my mind and body associated this position with pain. It was impossible to overrule that expectation, to keep my muscles from tensing and bracing for the pain even as I burned with desire. Which meant the light, tickling sensation that suddenly ran down my left leg almost startled me into a yelp. Smothering the sound in the mattress, I bit my lips and wriggled slightly, trying to work out what was happening. That earned a sharp, but not painful, spank on the bottom with the crop, and a stern instruction to hold still. Utterly confused, I did as I was told, smothering another moan as the tickling sensation was repeated down the back of my other leg. It was followed by a different sensation, this time rough, scratchy almost. The contrast between the light tickling and the rougher scratching was intoxicating. Forgetting there was any reason to fear, I became absorbed in tracking these curious feelings as they wandered over my body, the exposed position allowing access to every inch of sensitive skin. Over my neck and shoulders and arms, down my back, tracing circles around my buttocks and stomach, then my breasts, around the curve of my hips, up and down the inside of my thighs, the back of my calves, tugging off the red heels to reach the soles of my feet. The maddeningly pleasurable sensations travelled over my body over and over again, and I bit back a whimper, my heightened state of arousal now so intense it was unbearable. “Mel,” I moaned desperately. “Mel, please!”

I heard a throaty chuckle, then her body was pressed up against me, her hands massaging my breasts. “What’s wrong?” she asked innocently. “Don’t you like it?”

“Yes!” I gasped. “Oh yes! But I need… I need…”

“What do you need?” she purred, her hand now fondling my buttock cheek.

“I need… you!”

I could sense her smile. “Then beg for it,” she commanded. “Come on, you can do better than this. If you want me to do it so badly, beg for it. Make me believe you.”

I bit my lips, part of me still stubbornly unwilling to give in; but then her finger traced down and teasingly circled my entrance, and my will to resist abruptly deserted me. Words tumbled out of my mouth in a headlong rush as I let go of every last bit of control, pleading with her in a catharsis of complete and whole-hearted submission. “Fuck me, Mel! Please, please, I’m begging, just fuck me! I want you inside me, I want it now, I want it hard, I want you to fuck me hard and deep, please, I need you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember my own name, please, please, PLEASE!”

Still blindfolded, my face still half buried in the bed, I couldn’t see her reaction, but I sensed she was slightly thrown by my sudden complete capitulation. She recovered herself instantly however, and I almost wept with relief as her fingers moved, rubbing expertly right where I needed it most. “Very well,” she purred. “You have been a good girl, done as you were told, so you deserve your reward.” I moaned again as silicone replaced her fingers, rubbing up and down, coating its full length in my slippery essence. I felt her take position behind me, her hands gently pulling at my hips, and thought I would die of happiness as she eased the head of her shaft into my eagerly waiting opening. She pushed forward slowly, and I groaned in pure joy as I was filled. The dildo she had chosen wasn’t huge, but it certainly wasn’t small; its inches and girth more than enough to satisfy. Her thighs finally pressed up against me as she penetrated fully, and I felt a tantalising vibration that momentarily confused me, until I realised it was the stimulator within her harness. That excited me even more, the knowledge that she was enjoying this just as much as I was, though as yet she had uttered barely a sound. That soon changed as she began to move, pulling out and then sliding back in, back and forth, back and forth, slowly at first, then with ever increasing confidence as her hips found a rhythm.

My eyes rolled back into my head, the sensation so intense it almost overloaded my brain. I was barely aware of the sounds I was making, and didn’t even try to control them, didn’t even care that I was begging again between gasps of ecstasy, exhorting her to fuck me harder, faster, harder, please, please, for the love of god, harder! She didn’t oblige immediately, continuing at a moderate pace until I was almost ready to scream, my need for release so acute I couldn’t bear it. Finally, she upped the pace, her grunts of exertion and pleasure filling the air along with mine, our voices weaving a passionate melody, the tempo rising by the second as we raced each other to a finale.

With a cry that was almost a howl of release, I hit the peak I was so desperate for, Melanie’s hold on my hips the only thing preventing me from collapsing, titanic shudders quaking my entire body. Melanie continued to pump furiously, her own pinnacle so close I could taste it, and to my delight I felt a second wave, even more intense than the first, flood through me at the same time as she reached the crest as well, our cries of rapture ringing out this time in perfect unison.

Melanie slowed and stilled, allowing us a moment to linger in our pleasure. Then she languidly moved in and out a few more times, prolonging the delicious shivery feelings, wringing every last drop of ecstasy from my body before gently withdrawing. I couldn’t help giving a slight whimper of disappointment, the absence making me feel empty.

“You can lie down now, beautiful,” she murmured. It took me a second to register that, and another to relax the muscles bracing me in place, then I flopped over, dragging off the blindfold. Melanie smiled, then to my surprise, gently parted my legs and eased back inside me. I breathed a euphoric sigh; it felt so unbelievably right, so wonderful to be filled by her. Once her thighs touched mine, the full length of her shaft buried in me, she carefully shifted our position so we could both lie comfortably, our bodies intertwined, her arms wrapped around me. It felt sublime just to lie there, my body and heart so delightfully full, listening to our breathing and pulses gradually slow.

“I think you should internet shop more often,” I murmured after some unknowable time.

Melanie laughed softly, the slight movement doing interesting things to the way our bodies were connected. “I take it you like your early birthday present?” she whispered teasingly.

“Like it?” I breathed with a happy sigh. “I don’t think I can bear for you to take it off! I want to lie here with you inside me forever.”

She laughed again. “Well I don’t know about that, but I’m happy to stay here for a while,” she murmured, her lips seeking out mine. I breathed another sigh of contentment as we exchanged soft kisses.

“Next time, lets do missionary,” I mumbled around her lips. “I want to see you.”

She gave a little pout. “You didn’t like our game?”

“Of course I did. A lot more than I thought I would, actually. I didn’t think I could ever enjoy being a sub, but I must admit it was interesting, although I’m glad you didn’t push it too far the first time.”

“Mmmmm, first time,” she repeated, her lips curving in a smile. “Does that mean you want to do this again? Has my wears-the-trousers fiancé suddenly got a taste for being on the other end?”

For appearances sake, I tried not to seem too eager. “I think… I could get used to it. But tell me something first. What really brought this on? And why, out of everything you could have got me to do, why that position?”

She grimaced sheepishly. “Not very subtle, huh?”

“Not remotely.” I pulled my face away from hers ever so slightly so I could look her in the eye. “This is about what you saw earlier isn’t it?”

Melanie bit her lip. “You’re not mad are you? I just wanted to help.”

“Mad?” I had to chuckle, feeling my inner walls tighten and relax around the dildo inside me. “I don’t think its possible for me to get mad right now.” I eyed her in mock sternness. “As I imagine you’re fully aware, you manipulative little minx.”

She grinned, and gently flexed her hips, provoking a moan from me. “I just thought, maybe it would help,” she explained, flushing a little. “You know, if I did what she did, dominated you, made you assume the position, but then made you feel pleasure rather than pain. I thought maybe it might – rewrite that scenario for you. Help break some of those bonds she created.”

I frowned. “Bonds,” I repeated suspiciously. After this afternoon, her use of that word was too timely to be coincidence. She turned a deeper shade of red, and deliberately flexed her hips again, so that the accusation I had been about to utter came out as a gasp. “You’ve… been talking to L’Mak… haven’t you?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, shifting us so I was on my back with her over me, and flicking a small switch in the harness, turning on the vibration again. My eyes rolled back into my head with a groan of pleasure as she settled into a slow rhythm once more.

“What… did he…. say?”

“Nothing about what you told him,” she murmured, her faces inches from mine, her breathing becoming heavier. “He wouldn’t do that. But he said that… Madame B had built bonds into your mind… bonds of dominance and control that… would be difficult to undo by… just talking. He suggested… that there were alternative… kinds of therapy… things you might respond well to as…. you’re such a _physical_ person…”

I emitted a sound that was half laugh, half moan as she increased the tempo, and wrapped my legs around her waist, urging her thrusts even deeper, digging my heels into her back. “This was… your idea… of _therapy_?”

“Beats talking right?” Her mouth smothered any reply I might have made, kissing me passionately even as she upped the tempo still further, until we were panting and gasping into each other’s mouths, my hands gripping her shoulders, my legs so tight around her it felt like we were permanently joined.

In the very back of my mind, the small sliver of my brain that wasn’t fully immersed in pleasure indulged in a chuckle. As usual, she was right. This definitely beat talking. And whether or not it actually helped unravel the twisted bonds Madame B had left coiled around my soul, I was more than happy to let Melanie play therapist all she liked.

Oh yes. More than happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing Part 2 of this series, I found myself thinking a lot about Madame B and the twisted relationship Natasha had with her, and I thought this was an ideal opportunity to explore that. It seemed to me that Madame B was, horrible as it may be, the closest thing Natalia experienced to a mother, and that such physical and mental abuse so young would still have a profound influence over Natasha, and was a far more plausible explanation for her trauma-induced walling off of memories than simple physical torture, which after all, she had experienced in abundance. Plus it gave the chance to write some light BDSM smut, which was fun ;)


	15. 15.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melanie is called to help search for Hydra, leaving Natasha to battle on alone.

“Fascinating,” L’Mak mused.

It was the next day, and I was back in the Cube. To my relief, L’Mak had shown no immediate desire to return to the distressing revelations of the day before. Instead, he had started today’s session by asking about my experience with my shadow – something that, for once, I was actually eager to talk about.

“Almost like a magnetic attraction,” he mused, as I told him, fumbling for words, about the strange mental vibration I had felt, and the two opposing forces. “Like you can attract or repel your shadow depending on which pole you turn towards it…”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, relieved that he had understood my much less coherent description. “That’s exactly how it felt!”

He smiled at my eagerness. “So as it stands, you are starting to develop your control over your shadow self, and you have discovered how to reconnect, but you still have no conscious control over the act of separation itself?”

“In a nutshell,” I agreed, my elation fading at the reminder. I felt like I was climbing a mountain, and had just topped a cliff, exhilarated at the view, only to turn and find there was an even bigger one yet to scale in order to reach the summit. Becoming a shadow with the ability to zip through walls at mind-blowing speed was all very well, but it was utterly useless if I couldn’t control _when_ it happened, and there was still the sizable problem of the mindless killing machine that was left behind…

“You said you summoned up the attracting force in order to reconnect with your body. I wonder, have you tried to do the opposite? Have you tried consciously calling up the repelling sensation?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

That brought me up short. “Well, no,” I admitted a little sheepishly, feeling stupid that something so obvious hadn’t even occurred to me.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” he suggested.

“What, now?” I felt slightly panicky.

“No time like the present,” he said cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. “You’re safe in there.” He gestured to the barrier. “You can’t hurt anyone.”

I wasn’t entirely sure that reassured me, but I supposed he was right. I was going to have to try it sooner or later. I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe deeply, using an old mental exercise to calm myself, then cast my mind back to the day before. I tried to recall as exactly as possible the moment I had separated into my shadow, the intense vibration within my mind that had shaken me apart. Frowning in concentration, holding to that thought with all my might, I tried to will the same feeling to come into being.

Nothing happened.

Gritting my teeth, I tried again, feeling my heartbeat start to pound in my temples from the effort, but I still felt absolutely nothing. With an aggravated sound of frustration, I slumped in defeat and opened my eyes, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling in disappointment.

“Don’t get despondent,” L’Mak chided gently. “You have achieved a great deal in a very short space of time.”

“But what if I _can’t_ control it?” I asked, still staring at the ceiling, my disappointment edging into desperation. “What if that’s just how it works, and I can never control the separation?” The thought of living with this for the rest of my life, constantly on edge that something might set me off, in perpetual fear that I might turn on the people I loved… it was intolerable. I made a mental note to give Bruce a hug when I saw him; I had a whole new appreciation of the burden he had lived with for so long.

L’Mak clucked his tongue thoughtfully. “Possible,” he allowed, “but I think it highly unlikely. Even your friend Dr Banner eventually managed to gain some conscious control over his metamorphosis. I believe your _tonakida-shalon_ is correct in her analysis – your abilities manifest the way they do at the moment because of a deeply ingrained reflex. You trained your brain to associate any form of strong negative emotion with torture, and use your powers instinctively in self-defence when such a trigger occurs. To convince your subconscious to relinquish control over your power, we must examine those triggering factors in the clear light of day.”

I grimaced. My reprieve had been short-lived; we were back on topics I did not relish the prospect of discussing.

L’Mak smiled at my reluctance. “Let us go back to the first time this occurred,” he said firmly. “What happened exactly?”

“I wrecked the training room.”

He stared at me, expectantly waiting.

Sighing, I grudgingly elaborated. “I was angry with Pepper. No, I was raging.” My hands curled into fists at the memory. “I wanted to beat her into pulp. It scared me that I was so angry, that I couldn’t seem to calm myself down.” I closed my eyes, remembering the white-hot burning in my chest. “It felt like… like my blood was boiling, like acid was eating me from the inside.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And why were you so angry?” he asked softly.

I swallowed. “Because Goravitch had stolen the vibranium. He would never have got his hands on it if Pepper hadn’t convinced T’Challa to trade…”

“So it was Goravitch you were truly angry with,” L’Mak suggested. “Not Pepper.”

I clenched my jaw. Even the mention of his name made me burn with hatred. “He’s a monster,” I snarled.

He nodded. “Indeed, he seems to be lacking in many fundamental traits of humanity.”

I snorted. He was lacking in all of them, in my opinion.

“So what about the second episode?” L’Mak moved on. “You said you’ve had three in total, not counting the one here yesterday. What happened the second time?”

I winced, my arms reflexively wrapping around my chest. “Alaska,” I answered, my voice barely above a whisper. “They destroyed a village in Alaska. Took prisoners to be their lab rats, and then killed everyone else, all except one old woman.” My tone turned savage. “They wanted us to know it was them. They even left us a gift. They made the bodies into a sculpture, stacked them up into a pyramid, with the youngest on top. A baby. Just a tiny baby, and they stuck it on top of all those bodies like an angel on a Christmas tree.” My fists clenched tightly at the memory, still so vivid I doubted it would ever fade.

L’Mak looked sickened at my description, his dark face turning several shades paler beneath his beard, but after a pause he resolutely ploughed on. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Angry,” I mumbled. “ _Murderously_ angry…”

“And?” L’Mak prompted after a moment.

I swallowed. “Guilty,” I said miserably. “Because those people didn’t have to die. They were killed purely to hurt me.”

L’Mak nodded slowly. “So again, your anger was for Goravitch, for his lack of humanity, for his enjoyment of your pain…”

I nodded hesitantly, closing my eyes in anguish as I recalled that it might not have been _Goravitch_ who had chosen to inflict pain that time.

L’Mak watched me. “There is more?” he guessed.

I nodded again, but said nothing, squeezing my arms more tightly around my chest as though I could physically hold the truth inside me, keep it from escaping.

Regarding me with understanding, L’Mak sat back in his chair. He didn’t prompt me, but waited with limitless patience for me to reconcile myself to sharing the cause of my distress.

Silently, I wrestled with myself. It had arrived, the moment I had been dreading, the moment I would have to talk about Tanya… and I didn’t want to. No, I realised, it was more than that. I was ashamed to admit my infidelity to him. After what he had told me about Wakandan beliefs, that Melanie and I were bonded souls, I was afraid of his reaction. Surely there could be no greater profanity, in his culture, than to betray that bond?

L’Mak raised an eyebrow at the agonised glance I couldn’t help casting in his direction.

“Natasha,” he said gently. “I am not here to judge you.”

“But you will,” I blurted desperately. My throat was suddenly so tight, I had to force words out. “You’ll _hate_ me.”

“No,” he contradicted kindly. “I will not. Whatever you have done, whatever you feel, there will be reasons for it. I am here to help you to understand those reasons, not to condemn you for your actions. That is why you are talking to me, a professional, rather than your friends, people who cannot help but have a personal reaction.”

I winced, unhappily reminded of those reactions. I had received several visitors while I had been confined to my quarters at the facility, waiting for Shuri to complete her preparations in Wakanda. My friends might have forgiven me, but that didn’t mean they held back from treating me to their unvarnished opinions of my behaviour. The interviews with Pepper and Rhodes had been particularly unpleasant. Pepper had railed at me in tearful indignation for what seemed like hours, devastated that I could have even _considered_ being unfaithful to Melanie no matter what the circumstances. Rhodes had been far more blunt, telling me uncatagorically that my actions were disgusting, although he was seemingly less concerned with my infidelity than the idea that a teenage girl had been ordered to my bed and I had apparently decided to help myself. Outraged by his insinuation that I had actually ravished Tanya _against her will_ , we might have come to blows if Melanie hadn’t been there to calm things down. Between us, we had set the record straight, and Rhodes had gruffly apologised, but the whole episode left a very bad taste in my mouth. So L’Mak was probably right, his own reaction couldn’t be worse than what I had already had to endure. I licked dry lips, resigned to necessity, but it was difficult to know where to begin.

L’Mak smiled, seeming to intuit my struggle. “Alaska,” he prompted gently. “There was more to that situation. Tell me.”

“It might not have been… Goravitch… that time,” I got out with difficulty, hunched in pain.

He cocked his head on one side, puzzled. “Not him? Then who? You said they killed those people to hurt you. Who else has such a personal grudge against you?”

“Tanya.” The name felt like it was torn from me, wet with my heart’s blood. The gaping rent in my soul throbbed beyond endurance.

He frowned in mystification, then a glimmer of understanding entered his eyes. “Ah… I see.” He was quiet for a moment, regarding me thoughtfully.

I huddled in my chair, my face averted, miserable under his scrutiny, and a powerful anger suddenly reared its head; fury at myself for what I was feeling, at Tanya for making me feel like this, at L’Mak and Maria and Melanie and Shuri for forcing me to come in here and share my pain, forcing me to reveal my weakness. I felt the intense heat flicker into being in my chest, and _now_ the vibration started up in my mind. That ignited a second surge of rage, this time distinctly separate from the burn in my chest, quite literally beside myself at my own reaction. I fought it savagely, as determined to override it as I had been to call it into being a few minutes before. I would not lose control over this, I would _not!_

L’Mak watched me silently as I battled my anger, fought the force that sought to rip my mind from my body. Instinctively, I called up the opposite vibration, the feeling of attraction, focussed with all my might on that particular sensation, letting it fill me up, override the reflex that wanted to split me apart.

Abruptly the fire quenched.

L’Mak smiled in approval as I slumped, breathing heavily, exhausted but certain, somehow, that I was no longer at risk of erupting, at least for the moment. He made no comment however, resolutely determined to pursue the topic that lay at the root of my reaction.

“Tanya,” he prompted gently. “Tell me about her.”

I no longer had the energy to fight the inevitable. My achievement seemed to unlock something deep inside, and without quite knowing how I had started, I found myself talking, telling him everything. The words came like a flood, as though a dam had burst within me.

L’Mak sat in attentive silence, letting me talk myself out without interruption, as I told him how the affair had begun, the impossible situation I had found myself in, my fascination with the paradox she had presented, my hopeless attempts to prevent that fascination growing into love, and finally, the events of the day I had last seen her. How I had sent her off to complete an utterly repugnant task to give me the time to search Goravitch’s office, and the devastating events that had forced me to abandon her.

“And now she’s Viper,” I finished bitterly. “The poisonous head of Hydra, the evil mastermind behind whatever atrocities Goravitch is creating with that vibranium, the latest tyrant set on world domination… and determined to punish _me_ every step of the way.”

L’Mak regarded me solemnly. “And do you feel you deserve to be punished?” he asked after a moment.

I winced. Not this again! But… “Yes,” I confessed. “I feel like… she’s right to hate me, for loving her and leaving her. I _should_ be punished. For loving her at all. No wonder they call me _The Betrayer_. I betrayed Melanie with Tanya, and then I betrayed Tanya to go back to Melanie…” I sniffed, hating how pathetic I sounded. “I’m such a terrible person.”

L’Mak shook his head, smiling faintly. “That is how you feel, not the truth. You did not hurt this woman maliciously, you did everything you could to save her. The fact that she is ignorant of that does not make it any less true. And as for your _tonakida-shalon_ …” He paused, eyeing me speculatively. “You do not truly believe she has forgiven you, do you?”

I swallowed, and shook my head. “How can she?” I said miserably. “How can she forgive me, when I can’t forgive myself?”

“Perhaps because she has more experience of the ways of the heart than you do,” he commented kindly. He leaned forward, his expression earnest. “The heart is a complex thing, Natasha. Melanie understands this. There is room within it for many loves, of many different types. The love you still feel for Tanya is not the same as the bond between Melanie and yourself, the true bonding of souls. Your _tonakida-shalon_ can forgive you, because she understands that your feelings for Tanya take nothing away from your feelings for her.”

I winced. “Even though we… were intimate…” I asked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “This is the root of your feelings of betrayal? The fact that you were physically intimate with this woman?” He regarded me intently. “Or perhaps the fact that you enjoyed it?”

I nodded, squirming a little in embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have. I love Melanie, I belong with _her_. I had to sleep with Tanya to preserve my cover, but I shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much. I wanted her.” I looked down, deeply troubled. “I _still_ want her. It was the first thing I thought of, when I realised she was alive. Even though I had just found out she was Viper, that she was responsible for such terrible things… for a moment all I could think about was how much I wanted to see her, to _hold_ her.” I glanced up, almost pleading. “Why do I still feel that way? How can I still want her, knowing what I know? I chose Mel, I _know_ in my heart that it’s Mel I want to be with, and yet… something still ties me to Tanya.”

L’Mak sighed. “It is a complex situation, I’ll grant you. Your feelings for Tanya may not be the true bond of _tonakida-shalon_ , but that does not make them any less real. As for the rest… There is nothing inherently wrong in feeling attraction to someone else, Natasha. Physical cravings are natural, a chemical reaction within our bodies, and nature follows no moral code. Monogamy is an ideal in many cultures, but not all; there are some societies in which the opposite is true. In fact, there are even studies which suggest that multiple pairings are healthy, that humans, like the apes we are descended from, are not naturally inclined to be monogamous.” He eyed me speculatively. “Has intimacy between yourself and Melanie suffered thanks to your liaison with Tanya?” he asked. “Do you find it less enjoyable with her than it was before?”

I flushed. This was getting very personal indeed! “Ah, no,” I said, carefully not looking at him. “No, not really. It was a little awkward for a few days, but then we got over it. I’m pretty sure neither of us has any complaints.” I could feel my cheeks burning, recalling last night. We had discussed Tanya, it was true, but it hadn’t led to any awkwardness, and my former apprentice had certainly been the last thing on my mind during what followed. “We’ve always been pretty, ah, active in that department. That hasn’t changed.”

“More proof of your compatibility,” L’Mak returned without a hint of embarrassment. “You are both women in your prime; strong drives are perfectly normal, particularly in such difficult times. Sex is an excellent stress reliever.”

I pulled a face. “I guess that’s partly what made Tanya and I compatible too then,” I muttered.

He sighed. “Highly likely. Both of you were trapped in very onerous situations. You were both in need of a means to release that tension; intimacy was almost inevitable under the circumstances, and once begun, I can imagine it would have been difficult to resist. Particularly since I suspect the use of such activity to make unpleasant conditions more bearable was not a new thing for you.”

I flushed scarlet again, acutely aware that my doing so only served to confirm his speculation, but unable to keep the blood from flooding my face. “Once a slut, always a slut, I guess,” I muttered uncomfortably.

“I did not say that,” he said sternly. “Nor would I. I have just spent no little breath explaining that there are perfectly understandable reasons for your behaviour.”

I sighed. “I suppose.”

He moved on. “So I take it the third episode you experienced happened when you discovered Tanya was alive,” he surmised.

“Alive and the _enemy_ ,” I corrected with bitterness. “Yes.”

“Were you angry with her?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “I was angry with myself. It’s my fault, all of it. It’s my fault she’s become Viper, my fault people are dying… If I had never used the time machine, never got involved with her, never broken her heart…”

“Then everything would have proceeded exactly as it has,” L’Mak said with such certainty that I blinked at him. He smiled slightly. “I admit I was highly intrigued by the idea of time travel,” he said. “I have had lengthy discussions with Dr Banner on the subject. I believe his theory, which I know he explained to you, is the correct one, that the only way consequences of any changes to the timestream could be felt in _this_ reality would be if those changes were so small as to be insignificant. If you had substantially altered events during your sojourn in the past, it should have created an _alternate_ timeline from that point, one that you, returning to your original timeline, would have known nothing of. If Tanya remembers your affair in _this_ version of reality, it can only mean that your involvement with her was so tiny a deviation that it made no difference whatsoever. Tanya was already the unseen enemy you grappled with; she became Viper long before you ever went back in time, and she would have done so regardless of your affair. You may well have broken her heart, but I would go as far as to speculate that you may well have done that anyway, albeit indirectly. From what you say, she was already deeply emotionally involved with you from your time together as children at the Red Room, even though you were oblivious to her interest the first time around. I imagine even then she was hoping to resume contact with you once she graduated; your defection before she could do so must have been devastating.”

I winced. “She did say she had been planning to search for me,” I admitted reluctantly. “And I guess it’s quite likely that I would have been made her mentor, had I not defected, assuming she survived to graduate.” I swallowed hard. “Which you’re saying she would have done.” Which meant she would have passed the Night Master’s test on her own, I thought, desolate and guilt-stricken. All that business with Doris hadn’t been necessary at all. None of it had. I had betrayed Melanie for nothing.

“So… it really wasn’t my fault? None of it made any difference? She was evil right from the start?” Rather than relief, if anything that made me feel worse. I remembered those odd moments that had disturbed me, those fleeting glimpses of feral bloodlust, her increasingly evident appreciation of pain. I remembered how she had become aroused by thoughts of vengeance on Madame B, and felt sick… had I really fallen in love with someone so evil? And yet, even then, the primary reason she had wanted the woman to suffer had been for what she had done to _me_. Her love for me had been genuine, I was certain of it. I couldn’t understand how the young woman who had cared for me so deeply, even while I was oblivious to her very existence, could have been evil.

“Evil is a strong word,” L’Mak said diplomatically. He regarded me with sympathy, seeing my distress. “Few people in this world are truly evil, without any hint of humanity, Natasha. Occasionally someone is born defective, lacking any capacity for empathy or feeling for others. Goravitch certainly sounds like he may be one of those, but Tanya? It is hard to say, but I doubt she could have developed such strong feelings for you, or you for her, if that was the case. She may be warped and misguided, but that does not necessarily make her evil. Her actions may seem destructive and immoral, but we have no insight into her motives. Very few villains consciously intend to work evil; many of them are under the delusion that they are actually doing good. The Alaskan incident aside, she does not seem to me to be lashing out in mere enjoyment of causing suffering; there is clearly a logic to her actions, a strategy, however twisted it may be.”

I sighed. “I guess you’re right. I just wish I knew what her plan is, what she’s really after. And I _really_ wish I knew what had happened to her over the last nineteen years that set her off down this path. If it wasn’t me, then _why_? Why is she doing this? Where has she even been all this time? I couldn’t find any trace of her outside the Red Room…” I trailed off, my eyes narrowing.

L’Mak cocked his head to one side, eyeing me expectantly.

I tried to grasp the thought hovering on the edge of my mind, but it eluded me. I shook my head. I was too tired to focus. “I thought I had an idea,” I said in response to L’Mak’s curious look. “But it’s gone.”

He nodded. “If it was important, I’m sure it will come back. Do you feel able to continue? We can take a break, if you are weary.”

I considered, then shook my head again. “I’m alright.” I sighed. “To be honest, talking to you is easier than sitting alone worrying right now.”

The knot of anxiety in my stomach clenched. As it turned out, it had been a good thing Melanie and I had been able to spend some quality time together last night, because it was going to be the last chance we had for a little while. First thing this morning, we had received a holo-call from Maria. The two Navy vessels that would be providing the diversion for our submarine search were only a few hours out. Maria wanted a couple of the Avengers to join them, both to strengthen the ruse and to protect the crews if they came under attack. She insisted she wanted my advice on the matter, but we both knew the real reason she had called. She knew perfectly well who had to go, and so did I.

Melanie had reached for my hand, looking confused, as I clenched my jaw. Maria had waited silently, apologetic sympathy radiating from her as I wrestled with necessity. “Mel and Wanda,” I said finally. “You need to send Mel and Wanda.”

Melanie had blanched. “What? No!” she had insisted angrily. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere without you!”

“Except you’re needed out there,” I told her wearily, “and you told me yourself, you’re not really needed here right now. Bruce can manage without you, and I’m…” I forced a smile. “Well I’ve got a way to go yet. Its wrong for you to sit in here doing nothing, just so I can cry on your shoulder, when there are people who need you.”

“Why me?” she had demanded mutinously. “Why can’t you send Rhodey and Sam?”

“Because Rhodey and Sam can’t protect a ship against a torpedo,” I pointed out patiently, though my mind was screaming at me to find some excuse, some alternative that meant she wouldn’t have to leave. “This isn’t a scenario that best suits their strengths. They can’t deal with threats coming from underwater, and they can’t protect hundreds of people at once. You and Wanda can. And we can’t risk sending Wanda in on her own; if they want an enhanced so badly, seeing her alone might make them reckless, might make them risk an attack to try and capture her. But they must know they could never overcome both of you. You need each other. You need to go with Wanda, and keep each other safe.” I squeezed her hand tightly, unwilling to let her go despite my words, the ache of fear in my chest feeling smothering. I desperately didn’t want her to go, terrified she would never come back.

Maria had tactfully left us to say our goodbyes in private. Half an hour later, her eyes still red, Melanie had vanished in a gold flash, taking herself back to the facility to join Wanda. I glanced at my watch. The jet that would have been waiting to fly the pair out to the ships was probably descending to the deck right about now.

“I’m sure your _tonakida-shalon_ will return soon,” L’Mak said gently. I looked up to find him regarding me with understanding. “She is a remarkable woman; I’m sure she will be safe.”

I nodded, though my anxiety did not lift. “I know. She’ll be fine.” And I did know; she was more than capable of looking after herself, but still, the thought of her coming so close to Viper made my insides cold with dread. If my nemesis wanted to make me suffer, there was no easier way than by harming Melanie. I swallowed. I almost found myself hoping we wouldn’t find the base. The thought of the two of them clashing nearly tore me in twain.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “The thought of them fighting each other, the thought of _either_ of them getting hurt…” I shuddered with inexpressible agony. “I don’t know what to do, L’Mak. I don’t know if I can bring myself to kill Tanya, but if anything happened to Mel…” Words failed me again.

“Not an easy conflict to resolve,” L’Mak observed sympathetically. 

I grimaced. The man had a gift for understatement. I bit my lip. “You know how you said you believe people like me, and Melanie, and Tanya, that we have two souls? Can… is it possible to bond to two different people?” My voice became strained. “I feel like I’m being ripped in two, L’Mak. I love both of them… and it’s tearing me apart.”

He studied me for a long moment, pondering the question seriously. “Perhaps,” he said finally. “But I wonder if it is truly a conflict between two loves that divides you so, or between two sides of your own nature.”

I blinked, confused. “What?”

He leaned forward earnestly. “Tell me honestly. Who is it that loves Tanya? Is it Natasha Romanoff? Or is it Natalia Romanova?”

I stared at him in consternation.

He smiled gently. “Natalia Romanova is still part of you, Natasha, no matter how deeply buried. And it is that darker side of yourself that yearns for Tanya, is it not?”

I recoiled, shaking my head frantically, horrified at what he was suggesting.

L’Mak sat back, his expression intensely serious. “Everyone has darkness inside them, Natasha, to a greater or lesser extent. I’m afraid you have a far greater share than most, through no fault of your own. Darkness was fostered in you from your earliest days. You have achieved something in your lifetime that few have the will to even attempt, forged a new path and altered yourself completely. But turning your back on the darkness within does not mean it isn’t still there, or that it doesn’t still tempt you in moments of doubt. Perhaps the real reason you are unable to let go of Tanya is because there is still a part of you that longs to go back; back to the days when other people didn’t matter, when you could impose your will without fear or favour, when you didn’t care and so felt no pain.”

I shrank away from him. “No,” I rasped harshly. “Natalia Romanova is gone. She can’t be here. She can’t love Tanya. She doesn’t know how.”

“Can’t she?” L’Mak’s voice was quiet, gentle, yet insistent. “Natalia is part of you, Natasha. Not a fixed, unchanging spectre you left behind in the past. Natasha and Natalia are one and the same; you are as much a part of her as she is a part of you. Just as you are capable of the same ruthlessness she was, so she is capable of love, in her own way. Natasha Romanoff empathises with Tanya, pities her, wants to make up for her pain… but Natalia Romanova, she feels a deep, abiding connection with someone whose nature is as complex and divided as hers, and whose darkness is a match for her own.”

I stared at him, still shaking my head in wordless denial, my thoughts in turmoil.

He smiled kindly, and the intensity in his gaze lessened, breaking the tension. “Perhaps something to think about. But we can explore that another time. For now, I think there are other topics we should discuss.”

He rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “Tell me about Goravitch.”

****

“I was not cut out to be a sailor.”

The shimmering hologram before me looked part exasperated, part sheepish – and even in the faded colours of the holo-recording, a little green. “I suppose I should be grateful that the worst I’ve had contend with so far is sea-sickness,” Melanie’s image said ruefully, “but it’s damned inconvenient! Turns out, motion-sickness is not something I can fix by a chemical reaction, so I’m stuck with it. If Hydra are watching, they’re probably laughing themselves silly. Some mighty hero I am, hanging over the side heaving my guts up!”

“Poor Mel,” Bruce commented, shaking his head and clearly trying not to laugh.

I winced in sympathy. “I don’t think it occurred to her just how big the ocean is, or how big the waves can get.”

The hologrammatic figure took a breath. “But on the bright side,” Melanie’s image said on a more optimistic note, “I’m getting to see things I never thought I would! I’ve been spending quite a bit of time scouting – I don’t feel sick when I’m flying so Wanda took pity on me and let me take most of that duty – and it’s just beautiful out here! Bloody freezing, but beautiful. I always thought icebergs would be terrifying, but they're amazing! The size of some of them, and the colours in the ice... I wish you could see it, love! I always thought of the arctic as some kind of desolate, frozen wasteland, but it's so alive! This one iceberg we passed was absolutely covered in seals, you wouldn't believe the noise they made. Yesterday I flew over a humpback whale and her calf – I had no idea they were so huge! – and this morning there was a pod of orca, loads of them; I flew really low, almost touching the waves, and instead of running away, it was like they wanted to play with me, they kept jumping out of the water all around me…”

Her expression was so full of childlike excitement, I had to smile at her enthusiasm. I desperately wished this were a live conversation, rather than a recorded message passed along by Maria, but it was too risky to send a direct signal from the decoy ships to Wakanda. “Anyone would think she was on a tourist trip,” I said, attempting to sound disapproving.

Bruce chuckled. He knew better than to take my tone seriously; neither of us were in any doubt that Melanie was fully aware of the danger she was in.

Even in a recording, it seemed Melanie was capable of reading my mind. “I know what you’re thinking, and don’t start, of course I’m being careful,” she said, crossing her arms. “I haven’t forgotten there’s a few hundred people whose safety is in my hands, and I’m not going to miss an attack because I’m distracted by a flying fish!”

I raised my hands helplessly as Bruce laughed. “She knows you too well!”

“To be honest, I’m not sure I wouldn’t welcome a bit of action. At least then all these machos on board would have something else to think about. You would not believe the amount of male posturing I’m putting up with. Everything from making excuses to do their ‘exercises’ right in front of me, to insisting that the best antidote to sea-sickness is to accompany them for a drink.” Melanie’s image rolled her eyes in exasperation. “We _need_ to get me a ring, although I’m not sure even that would stop some of them.”

I gave a snort of laughter; the thought of all those hopeful navy seals following my fiancé around, showing off their muscles, not realising their chances were less than zero, was highly entertaining, although clearly Melanie was getting impatient.

“Wanda thinks it’s hilarious, of course,” her image went on. “Or at least she did, until one of them tried to go for a feel of _her_ ass. I think he’s nursing broken fingers.”

“Oh god,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Seriously? You could not make this up! They’re supposed to be on a mission!”

“Relax,” Bruce chortled. “If the only trouble they’re running into is from overly-amorous sailors, I for one am ecstatic. It means the decoy is working.”

“We don’t know that,” I pointed out. Anxiety and tension, piled on top of exhaustion, was making me testy. I was supposed to be resting, recovering after a particularly difficult session with L’Mak and the resultant episode that I had utterly failed to supress, but instead found myself worrying constantly over Melanie’s mission. The decoy ships were now entering their third day of seemingly fruitless searching; the submarine, a small but powerful vessel on loan from the British Navy, had been within enemy territory for the last two. There could be no contact with the sub until it returned, and the waiting was telling on everyone’s nerves. According to Bruce, they had estimated it would take five days for the sub to complete an intensive search of the entire sector. Obviously, if they found anything they would return sooner, but if they were detected or ambushed, we would have no way of knowing, other than that they would fail to reappear – a possibility no-one wanted to think about.

“Relax,” Bruce said again, soothingly. “Stop worrying.”

I shot him an irritable glance. “You relax,” I retorted waspishly. “I will worry for the both of us, seen as worrying is the only thing I can do!”

He grimaced, then took on a long-suffering expression as I heaved myself off the couch and started pacing again. “Do you have to do that?”

“Go back to the lab if it bothers you,” I snapped. “You don’t have to visit me out of pity.” The moment the words were out of my mouth I felt guilty; of course I knew that Bruce visited out of friendship and concern, not pity. Fortunately, Bruce knew me well enough not to take offence, but merely grimaced at me in sympathetic understanding.

“I think you need some fresh air,” he said. “When was the last time you actually took a walk _outside_?”

I shrugged and scowled. “I honestly can’t remember.” The reminder that I was trapped in this room, unable to go anywhere while Melanie risked her life in the Arctic Ocean didn’t exactly help my mood. Pursing my lips against the ache inside, I resumed playing the recording.

“Anyway love, there’s not much more to tell you,” the image said. “Try not to worry, you’ve got enough on your plate. Wanda says to relax, there’s no way she’s allowing anything to happen to any of us before she gets her chance to be a bridesmaid. She says she can’t wait for us to finish up this business so we can get down to some serious wedding planning.” Melanie rolled her eyes. “She’s got some big ideas. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer Vegas?”

I had to laugh again. I had no doubt Wanda’s ideas of the perfect wedding and Melanie’s did not mesh; as alike as the adopted sisters were in many ways, Wanda was by far the more extrovert of the two. It was nice that she was so excited, nice to think there was something pleasant to look forward to once this nightmare was over, although I couldn’t honestly say I relished the idea of wedding planning any more than Melanie did. I had never been to a wedding in my life, and the idea that I myself would ever get married was so ridiculous a notion I had never even fantasised about it. I didn’t have the faintest clue where to start.

“Looks like you’re going to have your hands full when this is over,” Bruce observed, grinning. He beamed at me. “It’s going to be weird, seeing you walk down the aisle, but I’m so happy for you.” He patted my hand with his huge one. “I’m glad you found her. Or she found you, I guess. You’re a totally different person since she turned up. I’ve seen you angry, frightened, depressed, determined… but I never saw you happy before. Not until she came along.”

I smiled at him, a lump in my throat. “You don’t wish it was you? That things had turned out differently?”

He shook his head. “I could never give you what Mel does,” he said simply. “I’ll always love you, Nat, but not the way she does. I’m happy the way I am. I’m at peace with myself, I have all my friends back. I have everything I want.” His expression became thunderous. “And if Hydra wants to mess with that, they need to look out, because I can still get _real_ angry.”

“Woah, down boy,” I teased as his huge hands clenched, and he inadvertently reduced the mug he had been holding to smithereens, his half-drunk coffee staining his grey sweatpants. Bruce cursed in dismay, and I threw him a cloth from beside the sink. “I think you’d better be getting back to the lab, before you destroy anything else,” I mock-scolded.

“I guess I better had,” he agreed shame-facedly. “I’ll drop by again later. I’m glad Mel and Wanda are okay. Say hi from me, won’t you, when you record a reply?”

“I will. See you later Bruce.”

He returned a small wave before smothering the DNA scanner with his huge palm, and disappearing through the door, which promptly sealed shut again behind him.

With a sigh, I dutifully collected up the broken fragments of his cup and dumped them in the bin, before turning back to the recording of Melanie. There were only a few seconds left.

“I’ve got to go, love, I’m due to scout again. Take care of yourself, and please, please don’t worry about me. Concentrate on your own stuff, so we can kick Hydra’s ass together when we find this stupid base. I’ll be back really soon. I love you.” Her image blew me a kiss, then flickered out.

I heaved another sigh, running a hand through my hair. I wanted to record a reply, knew she would be anxiously waiting to hear that I was alright, that I was coping without her, but I wasn’t sure I could truthfully say anything of the sort, and she had always been adept at seeing through my lies. Her ability to do so was almost a superpower in itself; no-one else had ever managed it. I had once convinced a Peruvian polygraph operator that I was a travelling gap-year student named Lucy. I knew it was hopeless to tell Melanie everything was fine and dandy, but I wasn’t sure what else I could say. Certainly nothing about my life right now could compete with humpback whales and pods of playful orca.

A lump in my throat, I skipped back to the beginning of the recording. A hologram of my fiancé hardly compared to her physical company, but it was better than nothing. I glanced at my watch a little furtively. I had at least another hour or so before anyone was likely to disturb me again. I set the message to play on a loop, and feeling slightly guilty, retrieved a couple of items from the cupboard before quickly stripping off and getting back into bed. If I closed my eyes and listened to her voice, I could imagine she was here, and I badly needed the release. Pulling the sheet over my head, creating myself a warm, private space that still smelled of her, I listened to her voice, closing my eyes and feeling my body start to relax as pleasure took over. It was actually strangely comforting, to see to myself for once. I hadn’t needed to pleasure myself since the island.

That thought made me smile, remembering those furtive moments when I had sneaked away to attend to my private needs, finding secluded nooks on the beach or in the forest. I imagined Melanie had done exactly the same. I wondered how I would have felt, hopelessly clueless as I had been back then, if I had accidently stumbled over her, thinking of me while she touched herself. Perhaps I would have realised then, how exciting she was. Perhaps I would have hidden, and watched her; perhaps I would have begun touching myself as I watched her stroke and rub and slide her fingers inside. I allowed myself a quiet moan as my hand followed my thoughts. In my imagination the scene took on sound and colour, Melanie lying in the soft grass of a secluded clearing, the sun kissing her tanned skin, her legs spread, fingers plunging in and out, her full lips murmuring my name as she dreamed of me.

Another moan emerged as I duplicated the movements of the goddess in my mind’s eye. It felt really good, but I wanted more. I felt around for the items I had brought with me, and quickly anointed the dildo with lube, feeling my need rising. In my mind’s eye, the beautiful goddess stopped what she was doing, opening her eyes and smiling a dazzling smile to find me watching her. “Fancy joining me?” she purred seductively. “I know you’ve never been with a woman before, but I can still give you what you want.” With a wave of her hand, a strap-on materialised around her waist. She lay on her back in the long, sweet-smelling grass, her eyes never leaving mine as she moved her hand up and down the erect shaft, inviting me. Overcome by need, I joined her, straddling her hips and easing myself down. I breathed a sigh of satisfaction as I pushed the dildo slowly inside myself, in my imagination impaling myself on my golden goddess’s proud erection. I pumped it in and out, my little sheet tent filled with my gasps of pleasure, while in my mind’s eye Melanie watched happily as I moved up and down, filling myself with her again and again. Enjoying my escape into fantasy, I teased myself to hold out as long as I could, driving myself to the brink and back over and over, until I couldn’t stand it anymore. The climax I finally experienced wasn’t quite as amazing as when my fiancé was physically present, but very satisfying nonetheless.

Smiling, I lay drowsing, breathing in the faint lingering scent of her mixed with the smell of my own pleasure, listening to her voice as the recording returned to the beginning yet again.

“Bruce is right you know Mel,” I mumbled. “I really need some fresh air.”

“I wasn’t cut out to be a sailor…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else finding self-isolation makes you ridiculously horny?!!


	16. 16.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accident during training has some unexpected results.

The city was festive.

I tried not to gawk like a tourist as I walked beside L’Mak down a wide boulevard; I had seen a lot of different cities in my time, but nowhere quite like this. Skyscrapers soared towards the sky in shapes that seemed to defy gravity, sparkling like they were built from jewels rather than ordinary glass and metal and stone. People sat laughing and talking in the shade of silk canopies that floated in mid-air, cooled by the soft spray of an elaborate water feature that appeared to be climbing the wall of the nearest building rather than flowing down it.

L’Mak, chuckling at my amazement, assured me that the impossible effect was merely an optical illusion, but even when I stuck my hand in the water, despite the fact I could _feel_ it flowing in the proper direction, I still couldn’t convince my eyes.

“And those?” I asked, removing my hand and indicating the floating canopies.

“Basic repulsorlift technology,” he said, smiling. “Very outdated in fact; I believe Shuri is quite offended that these are still in use, but she has had bigger things to deal with of late. I’m sure when things calm down, she will see that this whole area receives an overhaul.” He smiled indulgently at my baffled look. “Shall we?”

Still shaking my head in wonder, I followed him down the street.

Though I was curious as to what L’Mak intended, bringing me out in public like this, it was hard to stay focussed on my worries when there was so much to distract me. The world of the Avengers and Hydra seemed as far removed from Wakanda as another planet. I felt like I had been transported into a fantasy realm, a feeling enhanced by the fact that everyone I passed was wearing what to me looked like incredible festival regalia. Even the children looked exotic, with feathers in their hair and intricately carved ornaments woven into their clothing. In my simple black trousers and sleeveless vest, I felt as out of place as a raven amongst a flock of parrots. Feeling a tight knot of cold dread in my stomach as we passed a group of laughing women with babies outside a cafe, I glanced up to where a simple silver disc whizzed to and fro, seeking reassurance that it was still keeping pace with me as we threaded our way through the crowds.

That device was the reason for my release from strict quarantine; a targeting drone that Shuri had extensively modified to carry a smaller version of the machinery that created my invisible cell, and linked directly to the monitor on my wrist. By now I had gone through my transformation enough times that she had mapped out my danger signals to a fine point, and was able to programme the drone accordingly. If those physical indicators began spiking, the monitor would activate the drone, which would instantly surround me with a small but unbreakable energy field.

I was still a bit anxious about leaving the safety of the lab when I was still so volatile, but Shuri’s inventions had never failed before, and it was her people I would be tearing up if it did. Her complete confidence that I was now safe to wander freely around Wakanda was reassuring, and I had to admit, extremely welcome. Breathing in a deep lungful of warm, fragrant air, I felt my shoulders unknotting for the first time in days and inwardly blessed Shuri for her tireless efforts on my behalf, and L’Mak for suggesting we take a walk instead of sitting in the Cube for once. I had been close to going stir crazy, especially with Melanie gone; it felt wonderful to get out in the open air.

“So,” I said eventually, eying the diminutive man who strolled along beside me. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“A place I am quite sure you will find more comfortable than our usual location,” he replied with a smile.

I rolled my eyes. That would hardly be difficult. I was beginning to feel a powerful hatred of the Cube with its blank walls, shimmering energy curtain and single armchair on either side of it. By this point, I would have almost preferred another stint in Goravitch’s torture chamber than set foot in there again.

L’Mak chuckled at my disgruntled expression. “We’re almost there. This way.” He pointed me down a street running perpendicular to the one we were on. “There.” He indicated an enormous structure that dominated the entire block. “What do you think?”

My brows rose. “An arena?” I asked, intrigued.

“ _The_ arena,” he corrected with a smile. “Our principal training centre. As you may have noticed, we Wakandans are a warrior race.”

“I did notice,” I replied drily, looking around eagerly as we passed through a large arch.

The first thing that hit me was the sheer size of the place. The Colosseum had nothing on this. The arena was enormous. Ten football fields would have easily fit inside it. Surrounded by a high wall containing many windows and observation platforms as well as rows of stone seating, the interior space was open to the sky, but rather than a single huge area that could be surrounded by an audience, it appeared to be split into many distinct sections, some larger than others. In the distance I spied an obstacle course that would have had Lila shrieking with delight, and an amazingly realistic variety of terrain, including several large trees and what looked like a small ravine, complete with bubbling stream rushing through it. The section immediately before the entrance seemed to be a more traditional arena, a simple flat expanse of sand. A piercing whine startled me, and L’Mak put out a hand to stop me when I would stepped onto the sand, smiling. I glanced at him in puzzlement, and he indicated a light on a nearby pole that was flashing red and blue. The loud siren was clearly coming from a circular box below the light. Baffled, I opened my mouth to ask for an explanation, then blinked, astonished, as there came a loud grinding, knocking sound, and enormous cracks appeared in the floor. The entire floor of the section began to retract, the sand draining swiftly away, and new structures were rising from below, elaborate towers hung with ladders and connected by swaying rope-bridges.

“Wow,” I breathed in awe. In little more than a minute, the entire section had transformed. A loud crunching seemed to indicate massive machinery locking into place. The light ceased flashing, the siren died away. The swaying ropes stilled. On the other side, I could see a tall Wakandan warrior surrounded by a gaggle of adolescents; as I watched he gave a shouted instruction, and they whooped and vaulted the balcony rail, tumbling into the new course and dashing eagerly for the towers. I could see two distinct groups, one wearing red arm bands, the other group wearing blue. The instructor strolled towards the centre, calling out directions in their own tongue.

L’Mak nudged me, and I tore my eyes away, following him along a path between the sections. As we rounded a corner, I heard more young voices, and another group of children came into view. These were considerably younger, perhaps six or seven years old. Their faces were tiny masks of concentration as they copied the movements of another instructor, female this time, yelling in unison as they completed each move. As I watched, one girl tripped and sprawled into the boy next to her, and they rolled on the sand like puppies, giggling. The woman in charge cocked her head at them, raising her brows disapprovingly. Abashed, they hurriedly brushed themselves off and regained their places.

I gazed around, seeing other groups of children of various ages, as well as adult warriors practicing, and swallowed a lump in my throat. I wasn’t sure why, but this place reminded me strongly of the Red Room.

L’Mak gave me a sympathetic smile. “I thought you might feel at home here,” he remarked.

I glanced sharply at him, unsettled, but could not deny his observation. The setting might be worlds apart from the austere marble rooms and polished wooden floors of my youth, and clearly no-one here was at risk of torture or death, but it struck a profound chord in me nonetheless.

“Our children share a similar upbringing to you in many ways,” L’Mak commented, over the distant wailing and grinding that signified another section was metamorphosising. “Nothing like the harsh conditions you suffered, of course, but still similar enough that I imagine much of this feels familiar.”

I nodded slowly. “I guess it does.” I watched the closest group of children go through another series of movements, yelling with gusto, and had to smile at their enthusiasm. “Do you train all your children like this? Is it compulsory?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Until they reach a certain age. We believe it is just as important for our youth to develop their body as their mind. They start coming here at the age of three.” He led me along another path to a balcony, indicating I should look over. I did so, and smiled. A sunken area hung with squashy protective screens housed a large group of infants, happily running and crawling and climbing all over smaller versions of the larger equipment.

“Much like your western nurseries, the very young are encouraged to learn through play,” L’Mak explained, smiling. “Gradually, they take part in more focused activities, and at five they begin their official schooling. Between the ages of five and fifteen, they spend half their time here, in physical pursuits, and the other half in the classroom. I imagine you experienced something similar.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “Something like that, although I would wager our classrooms were a bit different,” I said drily. “I imagine your children don’t leave with broken bones if they fail a test.”

He grimaced in distaste. “Quite.” Shading his eyes, he looked around, then pointed out a familiar figure. “Your friend also seems to feel an affinity with this place. She spends most of the day here, at her own request. Under discreet guard, of course.” I raised an eyebrow, recognising Viktoria immediately by her pale skin and spikey hair. The woman wasn’t looking in my direction; to my surprise she appeared to be assisting with a lesson, in a smaller area with a sprung floor. She and a Wakandan instructor looked to be demonstrating a hand-to-hand technique to a group of serious-faced teenagers. A pair of warriors in T’Challa’s livery stood unobtrusively to one side, observing her while not making it obvious.

“I wouldn’t exactly call her my friend,” I remarked. “But I’m glad she’s found something to keep herself busy.” I grimaced ruefully. “Growing up the way we did… it doesn’t leave you with much use for leisure time.”

“Yes, I imagine free time was somewhat thin on the ground,” L’Mak responded soberly.

“Have you spoken to her yet?” I asked, watching with some amusement as Viktoria pulled off one of my own signature moves, wrapping her legs around the instructor’s upper body and wrestling him to the mat.

“Not yet,” L’Mak answered. “You are a higher priority for the moment. She’ll be kept under guard until I assess her, however, so you don’t need to worry.”

I shrugged. “I’m not worried. Not about her, anyway.” I pushed aside numerous thoughts that _were_ concerning me, and looked back down at the happily playing youngsters below, leaning on the railing.

“What happens when they grow up?” I asked, curious. “Do you have compulsory national service? Do they _have_ to become warriors?”

“No, no,” he assured me, looking faintly disturbed at the concept. “Some do, but not the majority by any means. At the age of fifteen, they choose their own path. Some continue here full time, joining the warrior caste; some prefer to dedicate themselves to study. Others become apprentices, spending a few months each learning the basics of a different trade or craft, until they find the vocation that suits them best. It depends very much on the individual.”

“A good system,” I agreed, a little envious. For a second I wished fiercely that I had been offered such a choice; then wondered which one I would have made if I had.

“If you could have chosen, would you still have become a warrior?” L’Mak asked, his thoughts evidently following mine.

I gave a derisive snort. “Warrior is not the word I would choose to describe what I became,” I said with bitterness. Sensing his chiding look, I pushed my resentment aside, and pondered the question seriously, watching the children at play. “I think I probably would,” I replied eventually, a little surprised myself at my conclusion. “It’s what I’m good at. It _feels_ right, even if the use I was put to was wrong. I just wish I could have chosen to be a warrior, rather than a killer.”

“Some would say the two are one and the same,” L’Mak remarked.

I shook my head. “You know that’s not true, otherwise Wakanda would be a nation of killers. A warrior’s role is not to punish or coerce; a warrior protects those who cannot protect themselves.”

He smiled at me with respect. “Indeed. And you are such a warrior, regardless of what you may have been in the past. You may not have had the option to choose in the beginning, but you still chose, and that is what matters.”

I smiled a little self-consciously. Though others had said similar things to me in the past, for the first time, I found myself daring to believe. Perhaps I really was a good person, not just a monster who wanted to be good…

“Speaking of warriors,” L’Mak interrupted my thoughts with a smile. “Here comes the other reason I brought you here today.”

Surprised, I looked up.

“Romanoff!” T’Challa greeted me warmly, striding along the path towards me. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. L’Mak tells me you are going to give my warriors a chance to earn their ribbons.”

I blinked. “Ah… I am?” I said, taken aback. I glanced a little nervously up at the drone circling my head, then back the pair of them. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked doubtfully.

“Shuri assures me we are all perfectly safe,” T’Challa said firmly, his eyes following my gaze. He smiled crookedly. “I wouldn’t dare offend my little sister by doubting her.”

I pursed my lips, and glanced at L’Mak, who nodded reassuringly. “I think you have been sedentary long enough,” he responded. “It is not healthy for anyone, not in the least someone as active as you, to be trapped inside for days on end. A physical challenge is just what you need.”

“Well… alright then,” I agreed, suddenly excited at the prospect. L’Mak was right, being cooped up inside was not helping either my physical or mental state. My daily routine of stretches and exercises kept me fit and flexible, but was no comparison to a good sparring session. My restless muscles yearned to be put to use.

T’Challa grinned. “This way,” he said, ushering me back the way he had come. He led me down an intersecting path towards a large rectangular field of packed earth, edged with concrete blocks. Much larger blocks sat randomly interspersed across the field, providing a few points of cover. I analysed the location at a glance, then my gaze snapped to the ranks of waiting men and women who stood at attention beside Okoye.

“How many of your warriors are you expecting me to fight?” I demanded.

T’Challa laughed. “That remains to be seen. How many do you think you can take out?” He winked. “I’ll wager no more than fifteen before you go down.”

I grinned. “I’ll take that bet. Winner owes the other a favour?”

“Done.” He held out his hand, and we shook, gripping each other at the wrist, warrior style.

I smiled, exhilarated. “Bring it on then.”

“Here,” Okoye said, smiling at my eagerness, offering me a selection of weapons. I raised an eyebrow as I looked over the choices, then selected a pair of pistols. No-one was wearing body armour, so I assumed they must contain an alternative form of ammunition. “Paint cartridges?” I inquired.

Okoye snorted. “Neural stun darts. They send a signal directly to your brain, overloading your senses. Get hit, and you’re out like a light. You’ll wake up with a banging headache about an hour later.”

I laughed. “You guys play rough!”

She smiled slightly. “These are the elite of the King’s personal guard. They can handle it.” She raised her voice. “T’Challa will stand in the centre,” she said loudly for the benefit of everyone. “Natasha Romanoff will attempt to assassinate the King. The Kingsguard will attempt to defend the King from Natasha Romanoff. Anyone who crosses the boundary stones will be disqualified. The match will end when either Natasha Romanoff or T’Challa surrender or are incapacitated.”

“The Kingsguard will defend the King!” one warrior yelled enthusiastically.

“Wakanda forever!” the rest roared in unison.

I rolled my eyes slightly in amusement. “I hope you left some on standby,” I muttered to Okoye out of the corner of my mouth. “I would hate to give an actual assassin an opportunity to massacre the royal family.”

Okoye smiled. “These are all volunteers from those who are off duty,” she replied. “There is still a full complement at their posts, and enough reserves to replace any of this lot that might not be fit for duty afterwards. So don’t feel you have to hold back.”

“Oh don’t worry,” I assured her with a wide smile. “I won’t be holding anything back.”

Okoye laughed. “Good. Because I also took T’Challa’s bet. So don’t let me down!”

“Any fouls?” I asked, checking my ammunition. Twenty-four rounds. Thirty warriors, plus T’Challa. I smiled. This could get interesting.

“None. Do your worst. Although I would suggest you try and avoid getting the King of Wakanda in the balls,” she replied sardonically. “It’s not very PC.”

I chuckled. “Diplomacy was never my strong suit, but I’ll do my best.”

She laughed again and saluted, fist over heart, before retreating over the boundary. I saw L’Mak stroll around the edge to stand beside her, then, to my slight dismay, noticed a crowd of excited youths hanging over the railings of the nearby balconies. I wasn’t sure whether I was about to be entertainment, or a lesson, or both, but it was a little disconcerting having an audience, especially when I noticed Viktoria’s group join them, the Russian’s eyes fixed on me as she leaned casually against the rail. Then T’Challa strode into the centre of the field, his ranks of bodyguards closing around him, and I dismissed everything else from my mind, focussing on the challenge. Crouching in readiness, I narrowed my eyes against the glare of the sun, scanning their formation, while I waited for the signal. Only the front rank had firearms, the remainder seemed to be favouring spears, but I noticed the heads all carried an intricate contraption that I assumed both capped the points, preventing any accidents, and no doubt delivered the same knock-out effect as the ammunition.

A sound like cannon fire, and the game was on.

The front rank of warriors immediately swung their guns up to fire, but I was faster. Diving forward, I took out the two nearest in mid roll before tumbling behind one of the massive concrete blocks.

Two down. Twenty-eight to go. I risked a quick peek around the block, and hurriedly ducked back as a hail of darts hissed through the spot my head had just vacated.

I waited.

A minute ticked by. Then another. I could feel their hair-trigger anticipation, their growing frustration when I didn’t reappear.

“Come on, you lot,” I whispered to myself, grinning. “Don’t just stand there. Come and get me.”

I sensed the moment that they lost patience and charged, and leapt for the top of the block, vaulting atop it just as a mass of bodies rounded both sides. For a split second they milled in confusion, not understanding where I had gone. They swiftly found out, as I fired several rounds in quick succession, sending another four warriors for an unexpected nap. I somersaulted backwards as those with firearms whipped their guns up to retaliate, adroitly dodging their darts and snapping off two more shots, one to each side, as I landed on my feet. Two more warriors slumped to the ground.

Laughing with sheer exhilaration, I ran for the next block, sensing several of the spear-toting guards in hot pursuit. Instead of diving for cover, I ran straight at the tall block, letting my momentum take me a couple of strides up the wall before pushing off and flipping backwards over the heads of my pursuers. My fingers pumped the trigger, and three more collapsed, hitting the dirt at almost the exact moment my feet also touched the ground.

Eleven down.

I didn’t pause to celebrate, hurling myself immediately to the left, narrowly avoiding several more darts that pinged off the concrete slab. Dodging behind it, I swiftly reloaded, then stashed my pistols down the back of my trousers to free my hands before I dashed out the other side, confronting a woman who had been attempting to sneak up on me.

“Hi,” I said brightly. Then I jumped, grabbing her spear and swinging around it, kicking her backwards with both feet. She went flying with a curse, and I jabbed her in the shoulder before she could recover, then whipped around to take the legs out from under two men who had sought to take advantage of her distraction. A quick stab to their chests, and they were out for the count.

Fourteen down.

Two more rounded the block, and I quickly retrieved one of my guns and dropped them.

Make that sixteen down.

I couldn’t resist a quick smirk in T’Challa’s direction; he returned a roll of the eyes, conceding that he had already lost our bet, but he was by no means resigned to defeat. I saw him shout something at his warriors, making a few quick hand gestures.

Seeing him momentarily distracted, I risked a shot at him. I expected it to fail, and I was not disappointed; even without his armour, T’Challa was not the Black Panther for nothing. Graceful as a cat, he dodged aside, and the dart flew right past him.

“Nice try!” he called, grinning. He pointed. “Your turn!”

I whipped my head around. “Ah, crap,” I muttered, realising what his shouted instruction had been. A pair of guards now crouched atop every block, fire-arms trained on me, and the rest were fanning out, surrounding me in a wide, wary circle.

Making a split-second decision, I threw the spear I held at them and charged back towards the tallest block, dodging missiles and hurling myself directly at the one gunman remaining on the ground, who quickly raised his weapon. As his finger squeezed the trigger, I threw myself onto my knees, skidding forwards while simultaneously leaning back far enough that the back of my head almost grazed the dirt. I grinned at his astonished face as I passed through his legs, turned and unceremoniously shot him in the butt. I rolled in close to the block, and the two guards on top promptly leaned out to try and get a shot at me. They made beautiful targets, silhouetted against the brilliant sapphire sky.

“Sorry,” I apologised, wincing as they tumbled to the ground. They were going to feel that landing when they woke up.

That took care of the ones on this block, but there were still others with the advantage of high ground. A dart pinged off the concrete, missing my face by a centimetre. “Hey!” I exclaimed, annoyed. I jumped to my feet, brandishing the offending dart. “Who aims for the face?” I shouted in mock fury. “You could have had my eye out with that thing!”

The advancing circle of spear-toting warriors hesitated, glancing at each other. I took advantage of the distraction to reduce their ranks by another two, chuckling at their looks of indignation.

That made twenty-one out for the count, with nine left, plus T’Challa himself, but I was running low on both ammunition and space to manoeuvre. I tossed my empty gun aside and grabbed up one of the ones from the ground, cursing under my breath as I saw that it only had a couple rounds left. But on the bright side, from the amount of darts I had dodged so far, most of my opponents were probably in the same boat. If I could hold out a little longer, they would be out, and then we would be down to hand-to-hand combat.

I grinned.

A scrambling sound from behind me told me at least one more opponent had gained the top of the block I sheltered behind. I pressed my back against the concrete, making myself as difficult a target as possible, then heard a distinct impotent click and some loud swearing that told me the warrior above me was out of darts.

Chuckling, I made a leap straight up, grabbed him by the vest, and yanked, pulling him down from the block with a startled yelp. I tumbled him in front of me, my grip on his clothing preventing him from hitting the dirt, and promptly used his body as a human shield. One of his comrades let out a hiss of dismay as he took the brunt of a spear thrust meant for me.

“Oops!” I said innocently. She glowered at me and drew back her spear to thrust again. I threw the comatose body of her comrade at her, causing her to topple backwards under the sudden unexpected weight, shot her in the arm before she could disentangle herself, and turned to deal with her fellows.

I halted abruptly, throwing myself backwards against the block, narrowly avoiding being impaled.

A semi-circle of grinning warriors faced me, only a few feet away. A small forest of spears were levelled at my chest, the tips almost touching.

“Do you surrender?” T’Challa called, his face full of laughter and unvarnished respect on the other side of the human wall.

I pulled a rude face at him. As if I would. He really didn’t know me at all. Then again, I thought, as he rolled his eyes, perhaps he did. “You wish!” I called back, inwardly pleased by his look of resigned admiration. I shot the right-most warrior at point blank range, grabbing her spear as she crumpled and attempting to dodge through the gap her toppling body created.

Predictably, even as I moved, half a dozen of the surrounding warriors lunged. Fast as I was, it wasn’t fast enough, not at this close range. _Oh well, it was worth a try_ , I thought with a sigh.

“No!” T’Challa yelled in sudden panic.

Too late. All six capped spear points converged, hitting me square in the solar plexus.

The impact sent me flying backwards, the jolt from the neural stunners sizzling through my flesh.

My back hit the concrete block with an audible thump, knocking all the breath out of me, and suddenly, for the second time in recent memory, I felt time slow to a crawl. Except this time, the stun darts seemed in some way to enhance the effect, stretching out the seconds indefinitely.

Somewhat bewildered, I watched my brain receive the painful influx of conflicting sensory data that caused it to overload and shut down. I _felt_ a raw, angry part of my subconscious interpret that pain as a threat… and something seemed to click inside my head. Fascinated, I watched as the instruction was sent to separate my mind from my body. It was so simple, so obvious, I marvelled that I hadn’t been able to see how it was done before. Instinctively, I reached out and altered that instruction before it could reach its destination, preventing my entire self from fleeing into my waiting shadow. _No,_ I thought firmly. _Not that much. I need to leave some behind. Let’s see…_

As though I had all the time in the world, I pondered, sifting through the thoughts and memories that made up my being, then decided to keep it simple. Purely leaving memories behind had been enough to animate my shadow before, so presumably it would work in the other direction. I needed my conscious mind to complete this challenge, and my more recent memories to understand what was going on, but I didn’t need all the recollections of my past. I unceremoniously dumped the whole chunk of my past memories previous to the Avengers back within my body, allowing the rest to make the transfer.

Stepping out of my body, I watched it succumb to the neural stunners, crumpling in agonising slow motion to the floor.

With a jolt, time abruptly resumed its normal course, and I shot to one side to blend with the cast shadow of the block as the semi-circle of warriors whooped in triumph.

T’Challa hurried forward, pushing through to kneel beside my unconscious form with touching concern, shooting a glare of disapproval at his celebrating guards. They quieted, standing aside, their faces falling. Okoye called out an enquiry from the side-lines, an anxious expression on her face. Clearly, they had not intended for me to be incapacitated quite that thoroughly. The adults in the crowd hurriedly began ushering the trainees away. I noticed Viktoria’s two guards were firmly steering her away too; she looked both annoyed and worried, looking back over her shoulder.

T’Challa put two fingers to my neck, feeling for a pulse. “She’s breathing,” he called to Okoye, relief in his tone. He regarded my unconscious face. “Sorry Romanoff. I owe you a chance to kick my butt for that later,” he told me solemnly.

“Why wait?” I said cheerfully behind him. Willing myself solid, I yanked a spear out of the grasp of the nearest guard and lunged.

Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, T’Challa whirled and caught the shaft a millisecond before the tip connected. His jaw dropped.

“Surprise!” I crowed, feeling a surge of giddy elation at his astonishment. I whipped the spear out of his hold and went for a side-swipe, which he barely dodged. He cursed something presumably impolite in Wakandan as he rolled to his feet again. “Is that you, Romanoff?”

“Who do you think it is, the Grim Reaper?” I demanded. Sensing movement behind me as one of the guards recovered their poise, I quickly let myself become insubstantial again, my weapon dropping to the ground. T’Challa’s eyes almost fell out of his head and he stumbled backwards, shock making him uncharacteristically clumsy, as he was almost taken out by the spear that the warrior had just thrust right through me.

“Tut, tut, tut,” I said admonishingly, side-stepping the spear and solidifying once more so that I could pluck it from the dumbfounded warrior’s grasp. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, it’s very unsporting to attack from behind.” I gave her a light tap on the shoulder with the capped point, and her eyes rolled up into her head as she collapsed.

Another warrior yelled something, and suddenly there was a frenzy of motion as they all attacked. Highly amused, I found an excellent use for the shadow’s bewildering speed, dodging all the flailing blows with ease and making a wide arc around them, giving each a light tap as I passed. In seconds I was back to my original position, holding back wild laughter as every warrior left standing toppled like a line of dominoes.

T’Challa looked torn between consternation and appreciation as I turned to face him, spear in hand. Slowly, he raised his hands in surrender. “Very impressive, Romanoff,” he congratulated me, a wide smile creeping across his face.

I sketched a theatrical bow, and he grinned. “So you can hear me,” he commented, delighted.

“Of course I can hear you,” I replied, mystified. “Can’t you hear me?”

He looked to one side. “Well, I know I promised you a chance to kick my butt, but I confess I would be more comfortable postponing that bout until you’re… shall we say yourself again? Besides, it seems our friends are eager to check that we are both still in one piece.”

I followed his gaze, and sure enough both Okoye and L’Mak were jogging in our direction. I planted the spear butt in the ground as the two of them reached us.

“Are you alright?” Okoye asked T’Challa, who nodded. She turned astounded eyes on me, looking between my sleeping body on the ground a few feet away, to the dark silhouette that must appear to be standing before her. “Natasha?” she asked uncertainly.

“It’s me,” I replied. Okoye just looked blankly at me, then at L’Mak.

The diminutive doctor cleared his throat. “I know you can hear us, Natasha,” he said clearly. “Can you speak to us?”

“Of course I can speak to you, what do you think I’ve been doing?” I demanded. Then, as they continued to wait expectantly, it dawned on me that, though I was perfectly intelligible to myself, as a shadow I had no mouth, no vocal chords, and no breath to push through them to make sound. “Huh,” I muttered, a little frustrated. Then I brightened. There were, after all, other ways to communicate. I regarded the spear in my hand and the dirt ground, then decided with the speed I could move, I could afford the time to find something less crude. “Wait right there,” I told them, and, dropping the spear, shot off through the nearest wall.

Now then, I thought, where would one be likely to find something to write with around here? L’Mak said children spent half their time here and half in school, which meant there must be classrooms nearby, they wouldn’t want them travelling miles every day, especially the younger ones… aha! My blurred surroundings stilled as I found what I was looking for. Wakandan schoolrooms didn’t differ all that much from the American variety, I found, except it seemed that paper and pen was too old fashioned for them. Instead, each desk appeared to have an inset electronic tablet, complete with touch-screen pen, and a larger version adorned the wall. I gazed around, irritated. _Seriously_ , I scolded them in my head, _does every aspect of life have to be so high tech? What’s wrong with an exercise book and a chewed-up pencil for god’s sake?_

I checked the next room, and it was the same, but the next turned out to be a storage closet, and there I had a stroke of luck. Tucked away gathering dust was an old flipchart-style whiteboard, and a box of marker pens.

“You’ll do,” I remarked, snagging a pen and hauling the board out of its retirement. I made to shoot back to the others, then cursed as I passed through the door while my burden remained on the other side, hitting the floor with a crash.

I grimaced, glad there was no-one around to witness that epic failure of common sense. “Really smooth, Romanoff,” I scolded myself. Willing myself solid, I dutifully opened the door and gathered up the board and pen, then set off once more, this time being careful not to go through walls. I had to stop a few more times to open doors, and take a much longer route back to the arena, but overall I guessed it was still under two minutes before I was back before Okoye, T’Challa and L’Mak. I felt a glow of achievement at their astounded faces as I blurred to a halt before them and planted my liberated board in the ground.

Quickly, I uncapped the pen and wrote:

_I can hear you. I’ve been talking to you this whole time, but I guess you can’t hear me._

_Ps. This is insane!_

Their faces lit up, and L’Mak chuckled. Then he grew serious again, eyeing my unconscious body. “I note the drone didn’t activate,” he observed. “Did the stunners cause a malfunction? Do we need to get you somewhere contained?”

I pursed my unseen lips, considering.

_I’m not sure_ , I wrote. _Something happened when the stunners hit me. It helped me see what I was doing, and I managed to control the transfer this time. I think I’ve left enough memories behind that I should be safe. But just in case, maybe you should clear the area._

I glanced around at all the snoring warriors. I didn’t want to risk killing them in their sleep.

Okoye’s lips twitched. “Already on it,” she assured me.

Right on cue, a large transport vehicle swooped down and zoomed to a halt beside us. Several beefy medical orderlies hopped down and, with a few exclamations at the number of casualties, began loading the unconscious guards.

Without ceremony, T’Challa abstracted a stretcher and gently lifted my own body onto it.

 _Thanks_ , I wrote gratefully. I was going to feel sore enough when I woke up, without additional aches from lying on the hard ground.

“It’s the least I can do,” he returned. He looked anxious. “I apologise in advance. I’m afraid waking up will not be pleasant. My warriors were a little overzealous in the face of your competence. No-one has ever been subjected to that many neural stunners at once. You could have been killed.”

I raised my brows, surprised, then, seeing he was truly distressed, hastened to reassure him.

_Don’t worry about it, it was my own fault for being too stubborn to surrender._

I smiled, and added another line underneath.

_For god’s sake don’t tell Mel I nearly died again though, or she might transport you to the middle of the Sahara!_

T’Challa groaned. “May the Panther protect me from the vengeance of females!”

The other two laughed.

“Well,” L’Mak observed, “you may be a tough old boot, Natasha, but I suggest we get your body into a bed, and get you checked over. T’Challa is right, that many stunners could have caused serious damage.” He cocked his head at me. “Would you prefer to stay as you are, or try to reconnect with your body now?”

I grimaced. _I’ll stay like this for now_ , I wrote. _I’m not sure how long I can hold it, but I prefer being conscious. Plus, I’m kind of curious to see what happens._

He nodded. “That makes two of us,” he agreed. “Very well.” He turned to the others. “As a precaution, may I suggest we use a separate mode of conveyance?”

“Already on the way,” Okoye replied.

While we waited, I watched my unconscious victims being loaded into the floating transport. I would have felt more guilty had I not known that the headache they were going to wake up with, after one stunner each, was peanuts compared to what I was going to experience after six.

The transport was halfway loaded when a second, smaller vehicle swooped down beside us. T’Challa and Okoye between them carefully lifted my body on its stretcher inside, and L’Mak followed. Not wanting to startle the driver, I surreptitiously slid into a convenient shadow beneath a seat, sucking myself into a compact oblong to fit. It was weirdly comfortable. As though the less complex my shape needed to be, the less energy it took to maintain. I made a mental note to discuss that thought with Melanie and Shuri.

By the time my body was deposited back in my bed in my suite, and an anxious Bruce had been summoned to check me over, I was starting to feel the strain of keeping myself separated. I knew it when we hit the usual thirty minute cut off point; I felt like a piece of elastic that had been stretched to its limit. I could feel myself fraying around the edges. It wasn’t painful exactly, but it wasn’t pleasant, and I didn’t particularly relish the idea of discovering what would happen if I pushed it any further. Since it was obvious that I was going to suffer either way, I gave in to the inevitable, and found that at this stage, reconnecting with my body took no effort at all. With a bone-jarring wrench, I found myself snapped back into place as though the elastic had been abruptly released.

Bruce leapt about two feet in the air, startled, as my eyes snapped open and I sucked in a huge gulp of air.

“Extraordinary,” L’Mak commented with a welcoming smile. “You should have been unconscious for a while yet! Returning to your body must override the effects of the stunners, reboot your brain.”

“Whoopie for me,” I groaned, putting both hands to my head. “You weren’t kidding that this wasn’t going to be pleasant.” I felt like my head was going to explode, and iron bands seemed to be wrapped tight around my chest, making every laboured breath a trial. I suspected the mother of all bruises was already forming over the impact zone. That was confirmed a second later by the look on Bruce’s face as he gently parted the fabric over my chest to assess the damage. “What the hell, Nat!” he exclaimed, looking astounded. “Mel is going to kill you!”

“Me?” I demanded hotly, suppressing a flinch as he gently probed the area. “Why me? I didn’t do anything!”

Bruce gave a disbelieving snort. “Yeah right. Well you’ve landed yourself in bed for the next few days, so I suggest you use the time to come up with a good excuse before she gets back. Now lie there and _don’t move_ ,” he said sternly, “or do I have to sedate you? I’ll need to fetch some scanning equipment,” he added to the others. “I think she may have a cracked sternum. Make sure she stays still until I get back.”

T’Challa looked horribly guilty. “My apologies,” he repeated to me as Bruce left to fetch his equipment, wincing as I groaned again. “Is there anything I can do by way of compensation?” He smiled crookedly. “You won our bet, so I owe you a favour anyway. Is there anything you need?”

I attempted to shrug, and immediately desisted with a soft hiss of pain. “No, not really. Oh, wait, yes!” A wide smile crept over my face, despite my discomfort, as inspiration struck.

“There is _one_ little thing I could use help with.”


	17. 17.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's joy at Melanie's return from the arctic is over shadowed by more bad news, a mutant rat, and a shocking revelation from Viktoria.

Thankfully, Bruce’s worries about a cracked sternum proved unfounded, though his prediction that I would be unable to leave my bed for a few days was annoyingly accurate, both bone and tissue bruised so deeply that every tiny movement was agonising. My chest was so swollen it looked like I had grown a third breast. Fortunately, my enhanced biology would deal with the damage fairly quickly, but I was still obliged to remain bedridden for a day or two.

On the positive side, this meant I was at least granted a respite from psychoanalysis. L’Mak intended to use the time while I recovered to accomplish his secondary assignment of assessing Viktoria, which meant I could feel doubly smug, knowing that she was being forced to delve into her unpleasant past instead of me.

On the downside, I was bored out of my skull.

Bruce, T’Challa, Shuri and Okoye all visited me, but the time they could spare was limited, so their visits were brief. Bucky occasionally turned up too, but most of the time he seemed to be off on mysterious errands for T’Challa, and declined to answer when I asked him what he was up to. Viktoria tried to visit me several times, both via holo-call and in person, but I refused her admittance, suspecting she was just trying avoid L’Mak, and probably gloat over my being reduced to invalid status.

I would have gladly taken her gloating, however, over the call I received from Maria.

My smile of greeting froze on my face as her hologram flickered into existence. “What is it?” I demanded, my heart beginning to pound at the grave look on her face. “What’s happened? Is Mel alright?”

“She’s fine,” Maria assured me. “Still no news from the arctic. I got an update an hour ago, they are still sailing around making targets out of themselves, but nothing is taking the bait. Mel and Wanda are fine.”

The feeling that my heart had been clenched in an iron fist lessened slightly.

“So what have you been doing to yourself?” Maria asked, raising an eyebrow at my position in bed propped up on a mound of pillows, crossing her arms and looking stern.

“Never mind that. What’s happened?” I asked suspiciously. “Don’t tell me nothing’s wrong, Hill, I’ve known you twenty years now, near enough. I know that look. This isn’t a social call. You want to talk to me about something. So come on, spit it out.”

Maria grimaced. “We… intercepted a distress call,” she admitted reluctantly. “A hiker in the Canadian wilderness wandered off the beaten track and trekked into a small village for supplies. Very remote, very little contact with civilisation, just like the one in Alaska.”

Cold dread spread through my chest. “Go on.”

Maria swallowed. “He found it deserted. No destruction, but no-one home. Livestock and pets running wild. The hiker radioed the Canadian authorities after he found house after house empty, but with meals laid on the table, personal belongings still in place, even a tap left running in one place. All the doors wide open, as though everyone had just decided on the spur of the moment to up and leave.” Her eyes met mine grimly. “Or were rounded up and taken away.”

I swallowed hard. “Any bodies?”

She shook her head. “Not this time, not that we could find. Sam and Rhodey checked it out, did a full sweep. Not a single human within miles, dead or alive.”

I nodded numbly. “I guess… at least that’s something,” I mumbled. “At least she took them all alive this time.” Although how long they remained alive, and whether they would have preferred death, was another thing entirely, I thought bitterly.

Maria hesitated. “There’s more.”

I winced, but sucked in a steadying breath and nodded for her to continue.

“I asked Friday to locate other enclaves in remote locations. Small hamlets with little communication with the outside world, settlements where it might take weeks or months for anyone to discover they had disappeared. There are a surprising number of little places like that, tucked away in god-forsaken spots across the globe. Friday has been running thermal scans on each location, checking for life signs.”

My heart sank. “How many are gone?”

Maria looked pained. “So far, seven. Another in Canada, one in Argentina, one in the Australian outback, one in Nepal, and three in China. Same thing, no destruction, not a stick or stone out of place, but every man, woman and child missing. Over four hundred people in total, we’re guessing, and there may be more we haven’t found yet.”

I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached, keeping a tight rein on my anger and despair. _Very clever, Tanya_ , I saluted her in grudging admiration for her audacity. “So either Goravitch is burning through his lab rats at an astronomical rate… or he’s succeeded.” I stared at my hands, clenched in my lap. “She’s building an army.”

“An army of yokels?” Maria said, sounding both horrified and sceptical.

I smiled bitterly. “Seems crazy, doesn’t it? But it’s also blindingly brilliant. She’s managed to harvest god knows how many people without us having a clue, until now. These people are tough as nails, used to living in harsh conditions with no outside support. The kind of people that are more likely than any other to survive Goravitch’s mutation process. They’re also fiercely loyal to each other, almost clannish; with their children and elderly held as hostages, I imagine there is little they wouldn’t do to ensure their safety. I’d say that would make them dangerous under any circumstances, but fuelled with vibranium?” My throat tightened. “They might well be unstoppable.”

“But if she’s building an army,” Maria said slowly. She looked at me, alarm blossoming on her face. “Who is she planning to attack?”

I returned her gaze grimly. “I imagine we are pretty high on the list. Its what I would do, eliminate my main threat. The Avengers are her most obvious opposition if she’s going for world domination. She’ll need to take us out before she can succeed.”

“How long do you think we have?” Maria asked urgently. “How long before her army will be ready?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. You’ll have to talk to Bruce and Mel. As best I understand it, the vibranium has to be given in minute doses, over time, to keep it from killing the host. But whether that amounts to months, or weeks, or days, I don’t know.” I quickly reviewed everything Melanie had told me in my head. “I think maybe a few weeks at least, from what Mel said, but I’m not sure. And if we don’t know how long she’s had these people… who knows how many are surviving the process, or how many might be ready by now?”

Maria nodded, looking stressed. “I’ll ask Bruce to send an update on his progress immediately. And I’ll evacuate all non-essential personnel from the facility as soon as possible.”

I knuckled my forehead, acutely frustrated that I wasn’t there to help. “Definitely. Maybe you should shut the facility down entirely, and bring the guys to Wakanda? We’re the best protectors the world has, and Tanya can’t take us out if she can’t find us.”

Maria pulled a face. “Fair enough, but if she can’t attack us, what will she do then?”

I winced, seeing her point immediately. “You’re right. She’ll just attack somewhere else. Maybe somewhere a lot of innocents will suffer.” I fell silent, thinking hard. It was inexpressibly frustrating, being unable to pace. “No,” I said slowly. “We need to keep her attention. The facility is a nice juicy target, we need to keep it that way. If there’s going to be a showdown, better for it to be on _our_ territory.”

Maria raised an eyebrow. “You’re thinking we set a trap?”

I nodded with a grim smile. “If we can lure them into attacking precisely where we want them to, then we have the advantage, vibranium or no vibranium. And if we can deprive Hydra of their new army of enhanced, we can then descend on _their_ base, and take them down once and for all.” I nodded decisively. “That’s what we need to do. I think you need Shuri back there asap. Her tech can keep me in check, I’m sure she’ll be able to come up with something to trap a load of mutant hillbillies.”

“But don’t we need Shuri with you?” Maria asked anxiously.

I shook my head, smiling slightly. “Nah. I can manage without her. I’ve had a breakthrough. I’m pretty sure I’m close to cracking this shadow thing, and once I do, we don’t need to worry about me losing it anymore.” I heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I just need to get out of this stupid bed so I can practice! They all made me promise not to try anything until the swelling goes down.” I scowled. “Apparently it’s important that I stay still, and if I accidently go all demon-spawn again, well… let’s just say it’s not very good at staying still.”

Maria gave a sympathetic chuckle. “That sucks. It’s a shame Mel isn’t here to sort you out, but the sub should be reporting back tomorrow, so she’ll be back soon.” She regarded me with relief. “I’m glad you’re getting better. It will be good to have you back. We need you here.”

“You’ll have me,” I promised determinedly. “Soon.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Maria hesitated. “Just… be sure, won’t you? Before you come back. If she turns up… we can’t risk you losing it. Especially considering… what might happen.”

I flinched, hearing what she was reluctant to say aloud. “I promise,” I said evenly. “I’ll be sure.”

*****

By the time Melanie reappeared two days later, the swelling had reduced enough for me to leave my bed, though my chest was still very sore. Most uncharacteristically, she did not immediately pick up on the gingerly manner in which I rose to greet her.

I eyed her worried expression and the dark circles under her eyes, and sighed heavily, words of welcome dying on my lips. “You didn’t find the base.”

Melanie glowered and shook her head, looking as though she would have liked to throw something, but was too tired. “No. We spent the last week sailing backwards and forwards making a nice juicy target out of ourselves, and nothing other than icebergs and wildlife came near us. Not even a peep on the scopes. Zip.”

“The submarine?”

“Returned yesterday afternoon. They did exactly what you suggested, sneaked into their territory from the east while we played at hunting in the west. They searched the entire sector, nothing seemed to detect the sub was there, nothing attacked it… because there was nothing there.”

“How is that possible?” I demanded. With due care for my aching chest, I began to pace. “How can something that size not show up? Viktoria said it was huge! She arrived and left the base by submarine, which means at least part of it has to be underwater… did the sub explore the coastline? Look for any cave systems or tunnels they might have utilised?”

She nodded. “Yes, we thought of that. Nothing.”

I scowled. “It makes no sense! Viktoria said they dropped her off outside of Murmansk after sixteen hours… there’s only so many places she could have started from! Even the fastest sub can only travel so far in that time…”

“I know,” Melanie said tiredly. “We’ve been over it and over it; Maria questioned Viktoria again via holo-call, but she’s adamant she wasn’t mistaken, that was how long it took. There is literally nowhere else the base could be, and yet it isn’t there.”

I bit my lip in acute frustration. “What do Shuri and Bruce think? Is there any way the base could hide from sonar?”

“Not that any of us can come up with,” she replied. “Sonar isn’t reliant on visual data, it uses sound waves. Those waves will bounce off any solid object, camouflaged or not, and if there was any physical barrier protecting it, the waves would have bounced off _that_. Short of becoming completely insubstantial, there is no way the base could escape detection. It simply isn’t there.”

I turned and smacked my fist against the wall. “Damn her!” I swore. “Where is she?” I clutched at my hair, making it stand on end. “I’m missing something, Mel. Something so obvious I’m not seeing it…”

“Well don’t look to me for ideas,” she snapped grumpily. “I’m fresh out.” Then she winced. “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to be harsh. I’m just tired. It’s been a hellish week, and I don’t sleep right without you.” She moved closer. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I said softly, embracing her thankfully. I was so glad to have her back in my arms, I forgot about my injury. I flinched involuntarily as she squeezed. “Ouch.”

She let go immediately. “Ouch?” she questioned, pulling away to regard me intently, and finally noticing the abnormally careful way I was moving. “Oh Nat,” she sighed in resignation, steering me towards the couch. “What have you done to yourself this time?”

“It’s nothing,” I insisted, half-heartedly attempting to bat away her hands. She quelled me with a look.

Supressing a groan, I gingerly sat down. Her deft hands swiftly undid my buttons, and her breath caught as she opened my shirt. I was wearing one of her looser affairs, as my own clothing was all a little too tight-fitting for comfort just now.

“It looks worse than it is,” I said hurriedly, as she stared at the mass of bruising, now all shades of green and yellow in addition to purple, that covered my chest.

“What the _hell_ have you been doing?” she demanded furiously.

I grimaced. “L’Mak said I needed a physical challenge after being stuck inside so long, so I was playing royal assassin against T’Challa’s Kingsguard. I took out most of them, but the rest managed to corner me, and knock me out with a few of Shuri’s neural stun darts.”

She rolled her eyes heavenwards. “A few? Not just one, but a _few_? How many did you get hit with?”

“Well… six,” I admitted reluctantly.

She choked.

“But I’m fine!” I hastily assured her. “A nasty headache and some swelling for a day or so, and now I’m just sore, that’s all. No big deal!”

She just raised a pointed eyebrow sardonically. “So you don’t need me to heal those bruises then, if it’s no big deal?”

I shrugged, unmoved by her threat. I felt fairly safe to call her bluff; there was no way she would allow me to continue in discomfort, even if she felt I deserved it.

Sure enough, after a minute she relented, albeit not without a lecture. “You need to take better care of yourself,” she scolded, while my bruised skin tingled under her palm. “Would it have been so hard to surrender?”

“Surrender is not an option for an assassin,” I pointed out patiently. “You get caught, you’re dead.”

She rolled her eyes in aggravation. “It was just a training exercise for god’s sake, T’Challa was hardly going to execute you! You’re just too bloody stubborn.”

“But I won,” I said smugly. I wriggled out from under her hands, hauling myself upright. “Which reminds me, you get to be the proud beneficiary of the fruits of my success.” I limped over to a drawer and rummaged inside it, removing a small cube. “T’Challa bet me that I couldn’t take out more than fifteen of his guard. He lost. He owed me a favour, so I asked for this.” With a flourish, I presented her with the box.

Melanie raised her eyebrows, surprised and curious. She opened it, and her face lit up. “Oh, Nat,” she breathed, overcome. Inside the box sat a ring of pure gold, set with a brilliant blue sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds.

She looked up at me, astounded. “T’Challa really goes to town paying his gambling debts, doesn’t he!” she said, awed. “This must be worth a fortune!”

I shrugged. “I think he felt pretty guilty about almost killing me with the stunners,” I said wryly. 

She cast me a glare, but was unable to keep it up for more than a brief second, her expression smoothing again as her eyes returned to the ring. “It’s beautiful,” she said admiringly.

Smiling, I plucked it out of the box and took her left hand, sliding it onto her third finger with great ceremony. Then I brought her hand to my lips, and kissed it.

“Now its official,” I whispered happily. “No backing out now. I am yours, and you are mine. We’re getting married. You’re stuck with me until death us do part.”

“Ha! No deal! You’re not getting off that easy,” she replied teasingly, draping her arms around my neck. “You’re always dying on me! Let’s just go with forever.”

“Forever,” I agreed, sealing the promise with a kiss. My lips felt starved for her; the feel of her was heaven. I felt like our entire bodies glowed with joy at being reunited; my chest tingled, as though her kiss alone was enough to complete the healing process. The sudden absence of pain, combined with her presence, made me feel giddy with happiness.

“So, out of curiosity, how many of T’Challa’s guard _did_ you take out?” Melanie murmured.

I couldn’t supress a grin. “All of them.”

“What?” She cocked her head, looking confused. “But you said the last of them cornered you with the stunners…”

“They did.”

She shook her head, baffled. “Am I missing something?” Then a glimmer of understanding dawned in her eyes as she took in my smug expression. “Your shadow?” she said excitedly. “It was your shadow, wasn’t it!”

I nodded proudly. “I figured out how the separation works, when the stunners hit me. I know how to split into my shadow without leaving behind a rage monster.”

Her face lit up. “I knew you could do it,” she said, kissing me fiercely. “Have you tried it again, since?” she asked when we broke apart. “Can you do it on command now?”

“Er… well… I haven’t actually been fit to try yet,” I admitted shame-facedly. “I only just got out of bed.”

She shook her head and smacked my shoulder, none too gently. “No big deal indeed,” she muttered under her breath. “Why didn’t you send for me, you great chump?” she said crossly. “I could have come and healed you and transported right back, there was no need for you to suffer for days.”

I shrugged, embarrassed. “You had enough on your plate. And… I guess I was hoping I would recover before you found out how much of an idiot I was,” I admitted sheepishly.

She chuckled. “ _So_ stubborn,” she said affectionately, kissing me again. “So,” she murmured after a pleasant interval, “does this mean we can go home? Not that Wakanda isn’t nice. But I do miss our little apartment, and the other guys,” she said wistfully.

I grimaced, remembering my promise to Maria. “Soon, I hope. But not yet. I need to make sure I’ve really got a handle on it, that it wasn’t just a fluke. I have to be sure that I’m not going to lose it, no matter what the provocation.”

She nodded gravely. “Then I guess you’d better get practicing. No more excuses, now that I’ve healed your ridiculous bruises,” she said severely. She heaved a sigh. “And I should be getting to the lab. Bruce is getting stressed, Maria is demanding answers yesterday, and there’s a lot of data to analyse.”

“Yes, I suppose we should get started as soon as possible,” I said wistfully, with a furtive glance at the bed. I felt guilty at wanting to steal some time for ourselves right now, but it had been an entire _week_ …

Melanie laughed softly. I knew she knew what I was thinking, knew she was thinking the same. I could feel the desire in her body, as hot and urgent as mine. “Well,” she said, pretending to consider, her eager fingers already peeling off my shirt. “I suppose Bruce has coped alone for a week, another hour won’t make too much difference.”

“No difference at all,” I agreed, my lips capturing hers feverishly as I undid her buttons. We undressed each other in a frenzy, leaving discarded garments in a trail across the floor as we swayed towards the bed.

“Just an hour,” Melanie warned me as we fell across the covers.

I nodded, my mouth seeking every bit of her I could reach. “Uh huh. Totally,” I mumbled. “Just an hour. That’s all.” She moaned in delight as I kissed my way down to her breasts, and I smiled wickedly around her nipple. “Maybe two…”

*****

Bruce did not seem remotely surprised at Melanie’s tardiness when we arrived at the lab a couple of hours later. Unwilling for her to disappear again so soon after she had returned, I had insisted on accompanying her, curious to see the results of the vibranium mutation testing for myself. I was no longer quarantined, after all, thanks to Shuri’s drone, so there was no reason for me to stay behind. We had decided that practicing my thing was probably best done under supervision, but L’Mak was busy with Viktoria, and Shuri was already back at the facility helping Maria, so while I waited for L’Mak to be free I may as well stick with my fiancé.

Bruce gave Melanie a welcoming, if somewhat harassed, hug. “I’m so glad you’re back,” he said thankfully. “I need you to take a look at this, and tell me what’s happening on the inside! The scanners stopped being able to penetrate the outer skin on day four.”

‘This’ turned out to be a lab rat. An actual literal rat this time, although whether it could still be called that was open to debate. I stared, fascinated and a little repulsed, at the small animal that skittered around a large glass tank. It had lost every bit of fur. It’s skin had become shiny and hard, like scales, and it’s entire body was covered in an intricate web of faintly glowing bluish-silver lines, as though liquid vibranium now pulsed through every blood-vessel. Most disturbing of all, it’s beady eyes had turned silver, with no visible pupils, reminding me unpleasantly of a corpse.

“Good lord,” Melanie breathed, crouching down to study the animal through the side of the tank, her eyes wide. “This is one of the three we started injecting when we got here, right?”

Bruce nodded sombrely. “The other two didn’t make it. One died after a day, the other the day before yesterday. It looked a lot like this one; we’re not sure what killed it, but we think it’s heart gave out. We stopped injecting this one after that, and as you can see, it seems to be perfectly fine. Except, as I said, we can’t know for sure, because the scanners can’t see past the outer shell anymore.”

“I’m not surprised,” Melanie breathed in awe, her eyes taking on a hint of gold as she stared into and through the creature. “That’s incredible! The vibranium is _everywhere_ …” She trailed off, studying the animal intently. Bruce and I exchanged grim glances, but remained silent so as not to break her concentration.

The silence stretched out.

“Well?” I asked finally, unable to bear the tension.

Melanie blinked, and slowly stood up. “The rat is fine, as far as I can tell the vibranium is now fully integrated into its system. I can see why the others died though. The vibranium seems to have spread through the bloodstream first, then the skin and the nervous system. The internal organs contain the least traces, so I think they must be the last to succumb. I imagine this little guy must have looked pretty sick for a time there, while his heart and lungs struggled to keep up with the change.”

Bruce nodded. “He did go very quiet, barely moving, for a day or so. So did the others, but they didn’t perk up again. This one did.”

“Once the vibranium got into his organs, strengthened them enough to deal with his new body,” Melanie concluded. She pursed her lips, thinking. “You were right to stop the injections, I think he’s not far from saturation point. Add much more vibranium to his system and I don’t think it will be able to function anymore. He’ll just shut down.”

“Poor little guy,” I muttered, feeling a bit sad as I watched the rat dig energetically in the sawdust that covered the bottom of the tank. “Why are it’s eyes like that? Can it still see?”

“Seems to be able to,” Bruce answered, shrugging. He indicated the various other features of the tank – an exercise wheel, food dishes, water bottle, a few chunks of hollowed out log. “He can still find his way to food and water perfectly fine, and he hasn’t been clumsy or bumping into anything. He might be able to find food and water by smell, but I can’t see him using the wheel without a misstep if he’s blind.”

As though to prove the point, the rat gave up digging and scurried over to the exercise wheel, hopping into it and beginning to run at top speed. The wheel squeaked as it spun.

I had to smile at the rodent’s enthusiasm. “Well he certainly seems no worse for wear,” I remarked, grudgingly impressed. “But what do you think it’s done to him? That skin, for instance. It looks almost like armour! Is he now a bullet-proof rat?”

The other two looked startled, then looked down at the furiously racing rat. “Maybe,” Melanie conceded unhappily. “But do you really want us to test that?”

I grimaced, looking at the rat apologetically. “We need to know.” I sighed as they both looked squeamish. Despite being willing to kill the poor animal with vibranium poisoning for the greater good, they both balked at the idea of blowing its tiny brains out with a pistol. Not that I was particularly eager to do it either, but at least I wasn’t being a hypocrite about it. “Get me a gun. I’ll do it.”

One of Shuri’s many assistants promptly trotted off, and returned within minutes with a small handgun. “Might I suggest taking this over there?” she said seriously, pointing out an area screened off from the rest of the lab. Presumably that was where Shuri tested her more lethal inventions. “The princess doesn’t like it when we make a mess,” she added demurely, her eyes twinkling.

“Good idea, thank you Noria,” Bruce agreed nervously, picking up the tank and carrying it to the section indicated. Melanie and I followed. We watched him place the tank down on a bench, then turn back to us, looking stymied. “Er, how do you want to do this?”

I rolled my eyes, raised the gun and fired. The bullet passed straight through the side of the tank, leaving a perfect hole, and knocked the rat off the wheel, which collapsed on its side, still spinning. Bruce and Melanie both jumped violently, and Bruce cast me a furious look, to which I returned a shrug. So what if he had been right next to the tank? We knew he was bulletproof. The question was, was the rat?

“Oh, no, the poor thing!” Melanie exclaimed, recovering herself and looking dismayed. “You killed it!”

“Er, actually,” Bruce mumbled, peering into the tank. There was a rustle, and then the rat’s head popped up from behind the overturned wheel. With a shake, he scampered across the floor and began enthusiastically digging again. Bruce reached into the tank, feeling around amongst the sawdust, then withdrew his hand. Returning to where we stood, he soberly held out a small, flattened nub of metal on his palm, the remains of the bullet I had fired.

I exhaled the breath I was holding in resignation. “Houston, I think we have a problem.”

****

The guard attacked with a shout.

Blocking her swift jabs with my forearms, I dropped to the ground, supporting my weight on my hands, and whipped my legs around, taking her legs out from under her. She rolled away from me, and with an almost synchronised flex of our bodies, we were both back on our feet. I studied my opponent as she circled warily, and flashed her an insolent grin.

The discovery that we most likely faced an unknown number of bulletproof mutants in the near future had provoked an intense desire to train, reassure myself that my body was still in peak condition after everything it had been through the last week or so. I had therefore left Bruce and Melanie to continue their analysis of the rat – Melanie insisted he had earned a name, and had christened him Kevlar, to my amusement – and made my way back to the arena, intent on finding a sparring partner. I had quickly found a group of T’Challa’s guards training in hand-to-hand, all of whom were more than happy to have me join them. I gathered I had become something of a celebrity. Already, a small crowd had begun to gather to watch.

I ignored my audience, focussing on my opponent. She had introduced herself as Odana, one of Okoye’s lieutenants. As might be expected from her rank, she was an experienced fighter, and cany enough not to be goaded into rushing me. She had seen one of her comrades make that mistake a few minutes previously. She kept her head at my mocking smile, and calmly continued to circle, searching for an opening.

I pretended to give her one, glancing to the left as though something had startled me, lowering my guard a fraction.

She didn’t fall for it, proving to my satisfaction that this one was an expert. I wished I had access to sparring partners of this calibre more often. No-one at the facility had shown this level of skill.

Abruptly Odana moved, going for a blow to the stomach, then grabbing my arm as I blocked, twisting me around. A flawlessly executed move, but one I had been prepared for. I let myself fall, my weight jerking her off balance before whipping my body around once more, taking her legs out again. She surprised me this time by catching herself on her hands and flipping lightly back to her feet, then immediately surging back on the offensive. Her fellows watched avidly as we exchanged a flurry of blows. For some minutes, neither of us could gain the upper hand. Then she snapped off a surprise kick that clipped my side, making me stumble slightly. Knowing she would immediately press her advantage, I did the unexpected, throwing myself back into her oncoming rush. With a yell, she lost her balance and fell, with me still on top of her. Before she could recover I twisted, locking her limbs in place with my own, and she cursed as she struggled fruitlessly against my hold.

“Yield?” I asked pleasantly.

She cursed again in her own tongue, then resignedly tapped to concede the bout. I grinned, and released her. The audience whooped and shouted approval.

Odana got to her feet, brushing herself down, panting. “You are strong,” she said to me in grudging admiration.

I inclined my head in thanks for the compliment. “And you are one of the best I have ever fought,” I returned sincerely. I bowed slightly in respect. “You bring honour to Wakanda.”

She looked surprised, then a wide smile split her face. “And you do honour to your tribe,” she replied, offering her hand. We clasped at the wrist and slapped each other on the back. “Now, please be showing me how to do that fiendish trick you just performed,” she demanded eagerly.

I laughed. “No problem.” Then I noticed two familiar figures heading in my direction, and sighed. “But another time, I think, if you will permit. I believe I am wanted.”

Odana glanced where I was looking, and grunted acknowledgement. “Till next time then.”

“Till next time, my friend,” I said, clasping arms with her again. Then I headed over to where I had seen L’Mak and Viktoria.

“Natasha,” L’Mak acknowledged me in some relief as I joined them. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Both of you?” I glanced between them curiously. L’Mak looked worried, Viktoria sullen and confused. “Why?”

“Let’s go over here,” L’Mak suggested, nodding towards an area containing a single large tree that was presently unoccupied by trainees. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

Slightly baffled at what he could possibly need to talk to me about that would also involve Viktoria, I followed him to the indicated spot. “What’s this all about?” I asked, perching on an oversize tree root. The shade of the leafy branches overhead made a welcome change from the bright sunlight.

L’Mak cleared his throat. “As you know, I have been speaking to Viktoria over the last couple of days, conducting my psychological assessment. Something has come to my attention that I believe you need to be aware of.” He looked at the blonde Russian. “Viktoria has been telling me about her experiences of the Red Room.” He looked back at me, thinly veiled concern in his eyes. “There are significant differences between your accounts.”

My eyes narrowed. “Is that so. What are you suggesting, L’Mak? That I’ve been lying?”

“No, no, you misunderstand me,” he responded immediately, his frown deepening. “I don’t believe either of you are lying, quite the contrary. I think there is a very simple explanation for why your experiences are so drastically different. Viktoria,” he said, turning to the other woman again. He rummaged in a bag and held out a familiar, tiara-like device. “If you would be so kind?”

She glowered as she took it from him. “Do I have to? Why does she need to see that? Is it really that important?”

“I believe it is, yes,” L’Mak answered gravely. “In fact, if what I suspect is true, I think it is imperative that you both see, and help each other understand.”

I glanced between them, bewildered. How had Viktoria’s experience of the Red Room differed to mine, and why did it even matter? What on earth was in Viktoria’s head that L’Mak thought was so vital for me to see?

Viktoria looked as confused as I was. With obvious reluctance – and I could in no way blame her for that – she raised her hands, and placed the device on her head.

“Now Viktoria,” L’Mak said, clearly, but quietly. “If you could please call to mind the woman who raised you, the woman you knew as Madame, the woman who was mistress of the Red Room.”

I jerked my head to stare at him, astonished, then slowly looked back at Viktoria as the air began to flicker between us, light gathering and condensing into an image.

I lurched to my feet, feeling the blood drain from my face, a strangled noise leaving my throat as I stared in complete disbelief at the figure plucked from Viktoria’s thoughts.

The figure was not Madame B.

Where I had expected an impassive middle-aged woman in her crisp white pantsuit, I instead viewed a much younger woman in a green dress. Long dark hair flowed over her shoulders. Familiar, all-seeing green eyes seemed to look right through me.

“No,” I whispered. “No, it can’t be.”

“Can’t be what?” Viktoria exclaimed in frustration. She looked unnerved at my reaction. “What’s the big deal? It’s just Madame!”

“No,” I choked, my wide eyes fixed on the impossible figure. “It’s Tanya.”

“Tanya?” Viktoria repeated, looking confused. Then her eyes widened. “But you said Tanya… you said that was… no!” She yanked the device off her head, throwing it back at L’Mak viciously. “No! I don’t believe you! That’s not Viper! It can’t be her! It can’t be!”

“It is,” I whispered.

“NO!” Viktoria screamed at me, looking suddenly quite demented. “You’re lying! It’s not her! Madame would _never_ do that to me!” She lunged, and I reeled backwards as she attacked me in a wild frenzy. Whatever her experience of the Red Room had been, she had still been taught thoroughly and well. Her blows were fast and fluid and only pure reflexes allowed me to block them. Utter fury in her face, she drove me back, and I heard gasps of astonishment from all directions as people noticed what was happening and stopped to stare, amazed that I appeared to be about to fall to my younger countryman.

Their shouts jolted me out of my shock. Pulling myself together, I blocked her attack more forcefully, pushing her back. “Stop it, Viktoria!” I snapped.

She ignored the command. “It. Is. Not. Her,” she snarled, punctuating every word with a vicious strike.

Cursing under my breath, I continued to block her attacks, waiting for her to make a mistake. She was a formidable fighter, but she was allowing her emotions to rule her, a fundamental error in a situation like this. Sure enough, a few seconds later she made a misstep. A brief struggle later, and she was on her knees, swearing foully, her arm twisted painfully behind her head, my knee in her back.

“Yield!” I snapped at her.

All I got were obscenities.

“Viktoria, I don’t want to hurt you, so for god’s sake, calm down!” I insisted. “Yield, or I’ll have you sedated and locked back in your room!”

She continued to struggle for another long moment, then all of a sudden, all the fight seemed to go out of her. She slumped. Warily, I released her. She didn’t look at me, curling up into a ball. I dropped ungracefully to sit on the ground beside her.

She was weeping.

Struggling to keep my own emotions in check, I swallowed hard, and gingerly patted her on the back.

Finally, she raised her eyes, and looked at me. All her bravado stripped away, she looked suddenly intensely vulnerable, and very, very young. Her expression was pleading. “Please,” she whispered. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me it’s not her.”

I glanced at L’Mak. He nodded gravely from where he stood a prudent distance away. I sighed heavily. “Come on,” I said gently, hauling myself to my feet and offering Viktoria my hand. “I think we need to talk.”


	18. 18.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shocking events force Natasha to make a choice.

“I was ten when I met her.” Viktoria’s voice was quiet, strained. She refused to look at me or L’Mak, staring into the cup of coffee she held in her lap.

I remained silent, accepting the mug that L’Mak handed me and sipping the coffee slowly, fighting to remain calm. L’Mak quietly sat down on the end of my bed, keeping his distance from the two of us on the couch, tactfully giving us space.

“My mother died when I was six, and my father…” Viktoria’s eyes were flat and hard, her voice expressionless. “He wasn’t a nice man. He pretended to be, when there was anyone watching. Played the grieving widower, the doting father, but it was all an act. He was the reason she died. He was drunk, in one of his rages. His story was she had fallen down the stairs, but I knew it wasn’t an accident. But I was just a child. Who was going to believe me?”

I said nothing. She obviously didn’t expect me to. I wasn’t sure she was even aware I was there. Her eyes were unfocussed, turned inward, lost in her memories.

“He got worse, as the years passed. I tried to stay away from him as much as I could. Roaming the streets, sleeping rough, stealing, begging to survive. But sooner or later, I would get cold enough or hungry enough that I had to go back. If I was lucky, he would be so drunk that he wouldn’t notice me.” Her mouth twisted in bitterness. “Most of the time, I wasn’t that lucky. Things came to a head when I was ten. He caught me sneaking back into the house. He was worse than ever, totally raging. He beat me… I managed to wriggle out of his hands, ran into the kitchen, trying to get to the back door, but he got there before me. I could see it in his eyes, this time he was going to kill me, like he had killed my mother. I was panicking, out of my mind, searching frantically for a way to stop him… and then my hand fell on a kitchen knife lying on the counter.” Viktoria shivered violently. “I don’t even remember deciding to do it. All of a sudden he was coming at me, and the knife was in my hand, and then it was buried in his neck, and his blood was all over my hands, and then I was sitting in a pool of blood with his body just lying there next to me.” She closed her eyes, as though trying to rid herself of the image. “I was ten years old, and I had just murdered my own father. It didn’t matter that it was self-defence. No-one had ever believed me when I tried to tell them about my mother, about his abuse. Why would anyone believe me now? So I ran.” She snorted bitterly. “Stupid kid that I was, I took the knife with me. I guess I got the idea in my head that I had to get rid of it. Didn’t even have the sense to wash the blood off first. Of course someone saw me. It only took a few hours for the police to catch up with me. Before the night was over, I was sitting in a cell.”

My heart twisted with sympathy, but I still remained silent. Dimly, I could see where this was going, how it led to Tanya, but I held back from making assumptions. I had made too many of those already.

“They sent me to a detention centre. I’m not sure how long I was there, the days all merged into one, all meaningless chores and role calls and strict classes and itchy uniforms and bullies stealing my food. None of it mattered anymore. I was numb, everything was a blur. Until she came.”

“Tanya,” I murmured.

Viktoria nodded. “I was pulled out of parade one day, shoved in this small empty room. And then she walked in. I just stared at her. She looked like some rich airhead, with her fancy dress and immaculate hair and polished nails. Not like someone you would never dream of taking seriously... and yet there was something about her. Even a child could feel it, the power and authority she exuded. The guards were nervous, she moved like she owned the place, and her eyes… it was like she could see right through me. Like she knew everything about me in that instant, just by looking. And then she smiled, and held out her hand to me, and I just knew.” Viktoria smiled, moisture brimming in her eyes, and I saw the child she had been in her face. “I knew I was safe. That she had come for me. That she would protect me, and that no-one would ever be able to hurt me again.”

“She took you to the Red Room,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” Viktoria answered simply. She took a deep breath, and looked me in the eye. “I don’t know how you felt about the place, what you were put through. I don’t know who this Madame B was that raised you.” She glanced at L’Mak. “I gather she wasn’t a good person. But the Madame I knew wasn’t like that. She was like a mother to me. She saved me, and others like me. She gave us a home, and a life, and a purpose.”

“She moulded victims into killers,” I said bitterly. _Wonder where she got that idea,_ I thought, the sarcasm blistering the inside of my skull. I clenched my fists against the tide of self-loathing.

“Assassins and spies,” Viktoria snapped, eyes flashing. “Not murderers! Secret agents in a silent war against injustice! We killed only those who deserved it. We made the world better!”

I choked a mirthless laugh. “And you believed that. Of course you did. God, she did a good job on you didn’t she?” I stood up abruptly and began to pace, unable to sit still. “That’s where she’s been all this time! That’s why I couldn’t find any trace of her outside the Red Room! Because she never bleeding left! I left Goravitch and Skuler unconscious, Madame B barely alive…” I slapped my forehead furiously. “Of course she stayed! How could I have been so stupid? There was only one thing she wanted more than me, more than to leave that place! The one person she hated most in the world, the person she had dreamed of vengeance on for years, and I handed her over on a silver platter!” My voice rose to a shout.

“Natasha,” L’Mak said in quiet warning.

I swallowed hard, fighting for control. L’Mak rose to his feet and gently took my elbow, guiding me firmly back to my seat. “Calm yourself,” he said quietly. “Remember, the timestream is uninterrupted. Your actions changed nothing. You may have given Tanya the opportunity for vengeance, but she would have found it regardless. Whether or not you had been there, she would have taken over the Red Room. And if she did, as you say, mould victims into killers, take comfort that she at least put an end to the practice of slaughtering orphans.”

Viktoria choked. “Slaughtering…?” She stared at me in horror. “Kids used to _die_ in there?”

“By the dozen,” I confirmed between gritted teeth. I closed my eyes, wrestling with the impossible paradox Viktoria had revealed. Was Tanya good or evil? She had put an end to Madame B’s reign of depravity. She had reforged the Red Room from a prison to a refuge. She had given children like Viktoria a home, made them feel safe, maybe even loved… but she had also turned them into weapons, loyal agents willing to kill at her command.

A thought made me raise my head. “You loved her,” I muttered, my thoughts racing feverishly. “That was what you meant, when I said all the Brethren were no better than Viper, and you said, ‘not all of them’. You thought Viper had killed your beloved Madame, and you grieved for her.”

Viktoria nodded, her expression tortured, but I had no time for her inner conflict right now. A dozen seemingly inconsequential details were rapidly slotting together in my head, and the conclusion I was coming to was terrifying.

“Why?” I said urgently, gripping L’Mak’s arm. “Why would she hide her identity from Viktoria? Why didn’t she just tell her the truth? Viktoria trusted her, idolised her! She would have gone along with her if she had known! Why would Tanya go through the whole rigmarole of convincing a girl who was already her willing slave that she was a vicious bitch who had murdered her beloved Madame? Why would she _torture_ a girl she cared about, unless she needed Viktoria to hate Viper? Hate her enough that Wanda would be able to pick up on it when our search for a spy led us to her. Hate her enough that we would be willing to offer her a deal, and bring her into the fold!”

L’Mak and Viktoria both stared at me, stunned.

“But… but… you checked me!” Viktoria bleated, her eyes wide with sudden fear. “You checked me, you said I wasn’t a sleeper agent, you swore there was nothing in me!”

“Of course there wasn’t!” I almost screamed, overwhelmed with dread. “Because we’d already taken it out!”

Her mouth fell open. “The kill switch.”

I was already on my feet, sprinting for the door. L’Mak and Viktoria pounded after me, but I outdistanced both of them, racing as fast as I could go for the lab. Melanie and Bruce looked up in astonishment as I burst in, Kevlar the rat squirming in Melanie’s hands.

“The kill switch!” I panted, grabbing Bruce by the arms and shaking him in my agitation. “The kill switch we took out of Viktoria! Where is it?”

Bruce looked utterly bewildered. “What? I – I think its still in the lab, back at the facility. We never got around to looking at it. What with everything else going on, it just didn’t seem like a priority…”

“What’s going on?” Melanie demanded, hurriedly dropping Kevlar back into his tank, her alarm increasing as Viktoria hurtled into the room, closely followed by a gasping L’Mak.

I shook my head. “No time to explain. Mel, we have to go! You need to take us back to the facility, right now!”

She gulped. “I can take you, but I don’t have anyone else’s blueprint to transport them. And Nat, the drone, I can’t take the drone, not unless you give me time –“

“We don’t _have_ time!” I snarled. “Forget the drone! It doesn’t matter! I’ve got this. Just get us home, now!”

“Natasha,” L’Mak said anxiously, reaching my side. “Be careful! You may still be dangerous –“

“I’ve got this,” I repeated harshly, leaving no room for argument. I grabbed my fiancé’s hand. “Now, Mel. Go.”

“Wait, you can’t just leave!” Bruce exclaimed indignantly. “At least explain what –“

The rest of his words were swallowed by the blinding gold flash. A second later, Melanie I were standing in another lab, several thousand miles from the first.

“What the hell?” Shuri’s voice demanded as I shook off the momentary disorientation. I looked up to find her standing in front of me, evidently part way through unpacking the equipment she had brought with her. “What are you two doing here?”

Bucky was at her side in an instant, his face turning grim as he took in my expression. “What do you need?” he asked tersely.

“The kill switch,” I told him quickly. “The one we took out of Viktoria. It’s not a kill switch! It’s a bug, and we brought it right in!”

His eyes widened, Shuri’s mouth fell open. “But it can’t be!” she protested, indignant. “I would have known! I would have noticed anyone remotely accessing the systems! And besides, it’s been in a lead-lined container since it arrived in the lab! There’s no way they would be able to access anything…”

“You don’t know that,” I said grimly. “We need to check it, now.”

“Nat, I don’t understand,” Melanie said urgently, as Shuri hurtled over to the other side of the lab and began rummaging frantically. “Why do you think Viktoria’s kill switch was a bug? What the hell is going on?”

“I’d like an answer to that myself,” Maria said, entering the lab with brisk steps in time to hear that last remark. She cast me a swift, searching look. “Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“I’m fine,” I growled.

“Then _explain_!” Maria ordered, every inch the commanding officer.

I sucked in a calming breath. “Tanya took over the Red Room,” I said unsteadily. “That’s where she’s been all this time, why I couldn’t find her. She killed Madame B, and took her place. That’s how it worked in the KGB. You weren’t given power, you didn’t earn it, you _took_ it. And that’s exactly what she did. She took over the Red Room, she became one of the Brethren, and she raised Viktoria. The girl thought the sun shone out of her bootlaces. That’s why Tanya had to become Viper, why she had to wear a mask, so Viktoria wouldn’t recognise her. She had to make Viktoria hate Viper, make her want to defect…”

“So that we would take her in,” Melanie finished in horrified understanding.

I nodded. “There was no way she could get a spy or even a bug in here intentionally, not with a telepath on site. Wanda would pick up on anything like that in a heartbeat. The only way was if the person who brought it in was completely oblivious to the fact that she had it in the first place.”

Maria looked uneasy. “I don’t know, Nat, that seems like a pretty elaborate scheme. Is she really that clever?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” I snarled. “She’s more than clever. She’s a bleeding evil _genius_.”

“Wait, wait,” Melanie cut in desperately. “Why would she kill Madame B, but leave Goravitch alive? Especially once she found out what he did, that he tortured her mother to death just to create her!”

“Because he was useful, that’s why,” I fumed. “He gave her something she wanted! Goravitch was part of Hydra, and Hydra were inside Shield. She joined Hydra so she could keep track of me! She had just tasted true power for the first time in her life, she wasn’t going to give that up to come chasing after me like a love-sick child. She was going to get me back, but she wasn’t about to let me dictate her actions anymore, not after what I did to her. No, if we met again, it was going to be on her terms, with her in control!” I gritted my teeth. “She must have been seriously pissed when Shield fell, and she couldn’t keep a watch on me anymore! I bet she’s been plotting to get inside the Avengers ever since.”

Maria still looked sceptical. “Maybe so. But this is all speculation, Nat. You could be wrong.”

There was a loud crunch, making us all jump.

“She’s not wrong,” Shuri said quietly. All of us turned to watch as, tweezers in hand, she delicately lifted a tiny scrap of metal from amongst the remains of the poison capsule that she had just crushed with a hammer, the acid green liquid that had hidden it spreading over the bottom of the small tray. “Looks like a wireless sensor,” Shuri said grimly, peering at the tiny object with expert eyes. “A good one too. And an inbuilt transmitter.” She glanced at the remains of the rest of the device. “I’d say the tracker you fried was genuine, but the rest was just an elaborate hoax to conceal this.”

“Is it still working?” Maria demanded, though she looked shaken. “Can we trace the signal back to her?”

Shuri passed the tiny device under a scanner, then shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She tapped away for a few seconds, hacking her way into its inner workings, then straightened up, pursing her lips, an expression of grudging admiration crossing her face. “Looks like it was programmed to activate as soon as the tracker was deactivated, access everything within about twenty feet, transmit it, and then switch itself off again. I doubt it was active for more than an hour all told.”

“Only an hour?” Melanie exclaimed, confused. “That’s a hell of a lot of effort for only an hour!”

“She didn’t need any more than that,” I breathed, my blood turning to ice in my veins. “You’re right, Maria. I’ve got it wrong. She wasn’t looking for me.”

Maria gasped, her thoughts following mine. “She wasn’t trying to gain access to the facility. She wanted access to the _quinjet!”_

“The quinjet?” Melanie repeated, bewildered. “But… why?”

“Think about it, Mel!” I grated painfully. “Think where that quinjet has _been_! The co-ordinates she would have gotten from the previous journey logs!”

Her eyes widened, the blood draining from her face. “Wakanda! It would give her the location of Wakanda!”

“Exactly!”

“I have to call my brother,” Shuri said urgently, dropping everything with a clatter, fear etched into her young face. “If she has an army, if she knows how to get into Wakanda –“

“It’s not _us_ she’s planning to attack,” Maria finished. In a trice she was out the door, the rest of us right on her heels, all of us running full pelt for the control room. Blood pounded in my temples in concert with the drumming of our racing feet, dread squeezing my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Wakanda had the most sophisticated defences and weapons on the planet, but every bit of it came from vibranium, the same phenomenally strong, versatile substance that was now surging through the bodies of Viper’s mutant soldiers. Viper was bringing fire to fight fire, and if Wakanda fell, the rest of the world had no chance.

As a group, we tumbled through the door into the control room, and Maria started rapping out commands at once. “Rhodey, get T’Challa on the line immediately! Sam, order a full mobilisation, every ground team, every jet, every weapon we’ve got! Everyone suit up! Where’s Wanda?”

“I think she’s in the residence wing,” Sam replied, his eyes nearly falling out of his head as the room burst into a flurry of activity. “I think she said she was going to hit the gym –“

“Tell her to suit up and get down here, now!”

“What about Clint and Pepper?” I asked tersely.

“Clint is at the farm, checking on Laura and the kids. She’s got her hands full at the moment with all four; Morgan is there too, Pepper is still trying to fix the mess Chad and Viktoria left in all her company systems. I’ll call them both in –“

“Er, boss?” Rhodes interrupted at that point.

His voice wasn’t loud, but something about his tone caught all our attention. The room suddenly went very still as all eyes turned to him.

He cleared his throat. “This just came in,” he said softly. He tapped a button, and the main wall screen sprang into life as he switched the feed to allow everyone to view the incoming communication.

Video appeared on the screen. A slight wobble to the panning shot, showing it was being filmed on a handheld device, possibly a phone. A rambling farm, the main house in the foreground with its wide porch, logs and chopping block out front. The shapes of a tumbledown barn and outbuildings behind, an ancient, broken down tractor just visible around the corner of the house.

There was a petrified silence. Terror pierced me like a spear through the heart as understanding struck with devastating clarity.

 _Think about it Mel_ , I had said only a few minutes ago. _Think about where that quinjet has been._

“No,” I whispered. “Oh god, please, no!”

Another memory, me sitting in a chair while a dark-haired girl brushed my hair, my voice quiet and strained as I unwisely gave in to a compulsion to unburden myself, to share with her the story of the man who had changed my perspective so utterly.

_“I don’t understand,” Tanya said, confused. “So he had a family, so what? So did a lot of the people you’ve killed, I imagine. It never stopped you before.”_

_“This was different,” I had replied. “He wasn’t a target, he was an assassin, like me. He should have been exactly like me. Nothing but a weapon, a tool in the hands of his masters. He shouldn’t have cared whether he died. But he did. He felt my gun against his head, and he knew he had failed, that I was going to kill him… he didn’t look at me. He looked at that photo, lying there in the snow, and… I could see it in his eyes, how much it hurt him. Not that he was going to die, not that he would never see them again… but that they would never see him again. That he would never return to his farm, that his wife would be left to raise their son alone, and the boy would grow up never knowing his father…”_

“No!” I moaned in agony. “Oh god… I told her…. I _told_ her!”

“Told her what?” Melanie demanded fearfully, grabbing me. “Nat! What did you tell her?”

I was shaking, rage and hatred burning like an inferno in my chest, but I forced it down. “I told her about Clint,” I grated between clenched teeth. “About the day we met. Not by name, but enough that she could have figured out who he is. And I mentioned… I mentioned the farm…”

Melanie cursed savagely.

That’s what she was looking for, I realised, staring at the image of my friend’s home. Fury had arranged for the farm years ago, kept it off all Shield files, so she couldn’t have gotten the location through Hydra. But all land holdings had to have papers, estate management records, insurance, equipment… That’s what Skuler had been doing, why he had been raiding offices – they were land registration records, agricultural supplies, insurance brokers! We were so slow to pick up on the threat within Stark Industries, she must have gotten impatient, must have started to worry that we were never going to find Viktoria… but as soon as we had, the raids had stopped.

Another memory, more recent. _“And now she’s Viper,” I had told L’Mak bitterly. “The poisonous head of Hydra, the evil mastermind behind whatever atrocities Goravitch is creating with that vibranium, the latest tyrant set on world domination… and determined to punish_ me _every step of the way…”_

All of this passed through my mind in a split second before I was overwhelmed by sheer panic, the horror freezing me in place.

“Nat!” Rhodes snapped urgently. “This footage is live! Whoever is filming, they are there right now!”

Even as I processed that terrifying conclusion, I saw smoke begin to curl out of the farmhouse windows.

“Oh god!” Melanie gasped. “Clint! Laura! The children!”

Feeling flooded through my muscles, unfreezing me from my shock, and I grabbed her. “Get us there!” I ordered fiercely. “Get us there now! Maria, grab everyone else, and get to Bartons as fast as you can! Go!”

“Gone!” Maria responded, already sprinting out the door, Sam and Rhodes hot on her heels. Melanie didn’t wait for them to disappear; she gripped my arms tightly, gold already blossoming in her eyes. In a flash we standing beside the log pile in front of the farmhouse. Thick black smoke immediately filled our lungs, setting us coughing. Staggering slightly, I gazed in terror at the house. It was already engulphed in flames.

“Nat!” Melanie’s anguished scream rang out as I darted forward.

“Get help!” I yelled over my shoulder, hurling myself bodily through the front door. I pulled my shirt up over my mouth and nose to try and help me breathe, and peered through the thick smoke. The interior was barely recognisable, fire bloomed everywhere, walls and furniture already blackened and twisted. Half the ceiling had already caved in, creating a nightmare obstacle course of flame-wreathed timbers. I got down on all fours and crawled, trying to stay beneath the smoke, frantically searching, coughing ash out of my lungs.

I reached the place where the kitchen had been. My eyes stung as I squinted through the haze of smoke and the glow of flames, and my heart gave a lurch. A human arm protruded from a pile of rubble and plaster and the remains of the kitchen table, on the floor beside the soot-stained sink. Scrambling forwards like a demented crab, I hurled the smouldering wood aside and dug frantically, pulling Laura free of the debris. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing, and I had no time to check. Grabbing her beneath the armpits, I hauled her to the back door and out into the yard, sucking in great gulps of mercifully fresh air.

A flurry of movement, and Melanie was there, kneeling at Laura’s side.

“Nat!” Wanda grabbed me as I staggered. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “What can I do? Did you find the others? Tell me what to do!”

“Rain!” I gasped, pointing at the deep black clouds on the horizon. “We need rain!”

Wanda nodded feverishly. Her eyes began to glow red as she sent crimson tendrils of energy up into the sky.

I didn’t wait to see if she could call the distant storm, I was already running back to the house, diving headfirst back into the inferno. Crawling through the rubble, wincing at the intense heat, I fought my way towards the staircase, straining my ears for sounds from the floor above, any tiny movement or whispered cry for help that would tell me where Clint and the children were, but there was nothing but the furious crackling of burning timber, and the creaks and groans of a house in its death throes.

Thunder abruptly clapped outside, swiftly followed by the thunderous drum of rain. Wanda had managed to bring the storm, her powers forcing the clouds to release an unnatural downpour over the house. It would tame the fire, but the added weight of the water would only make the building’s collapse all the more inevitable. Even as I reached the stairs, they fell in with a mighty crash.

“No!” I cried, coughing up black mucus.

“Nat!” Wanda’s frantic voice yelled. “Nat, get out of there!”

No! I couldn’t leave them! I couldn’t! I tried desperately to climb over the treacherous debris, fighting to gain access to the upper floor.

Abruptly, something caught hold of me and yanked me backwards. “No!” I fought Wanda’s scarlet tendrils mindlessly as they dragged me kicking and screaming out of the front door and across the ruined porch. I landed butt first in the mud, the deluge plastering my hair to my head. I furiously tried to regain my feet, to go back in, but Wanda’s power held me back. She grabbed my arms, adding her own strength to the task, sobbing loudly. With thundering crash, the whole building caved in on itself as though a string holding up the roof had been suddenly cut. Wanda threw up a red sphere of protection around us as smouldering debris pelted us like hailstones.

“No,” I moaned, falling back to my knees and keening in anguish. “No, no, no, no!”

 _Clint, the children, please god let them be safe,_ I begged any power that would listen. _Please, please, let them not have been in the house…_

“Laura! Mel!” I remembered suddenly, lurching back to my feet and scanning the ground feverishly. Oh god, if any debris had hit them…!

“I got them,” Wanda’s strained voice choked. I caught a glimpse of a shimmer of red near where the side door to the kitchen had been. Another protective cocoon, and a faintly-visible figure shielding a limp form on the ground.

The remains of the house shifted, settled. The rain of debris slowed, then stopped. We stood before the pile of smoking rubble that had once been the Bartons’ home, small fires still visible here and there amongst the wreckage, defying the pouring rain to put them out. I couldn’t move, my brain seized over with pain and grief.

A sonic boom heralded the arrival of the jet.

I barely registered their landing, the figures that ran down the ramp as soon as it opened, their cries of disbelief and shock. I sank to my knees in the mud, and stared unseeing at the ruin. I felt the others rush to my side, distantly heard Wanda sobbing an explanation of what had occurred, but it was all meaningless noise.

Shouts rang out around me as the medical team the others had brought swarmed over to Laura, lifting her on a stretcher and hurrying her into the jet. Melanie staggered over to me, her grimy face streaked with the tracks of her tears.

“Laura?” I whispered numbly.

“I got her breathing again,” Melanie croaked. She fell to her knees beside me, and buried her head in my shoulder. “She’s alive.” She began to sob, and I absently curled my arms around her, my eyes still fixed and staring at the wreckage that had been my best friends’ safe haven. Maria, Sam, Bucky and Rhodey were already picking through the ruin.

Looking for bodies.

I wept, tears mixing with the rain running down my face, clutching Melanie to me like a lifeline. This was all my fault. Clint and the children were dead, Laura might still die too, and it was all my fault…

A new shout pierced my desolation. Sam and Rhodes were delving through the partly destroyed but unburned barn, the one Clint and Cooper had been turning into a workshop. Sam was yelling. A shout of discovery. Hope surged through me, abruptly restoring life to my frozen limbs. I looked down at Melanie’s shuddering, sobbing form, unwilling to leave her, but desperate to go see what they had found.

Gentle hands eased her out of my arms. “I’ve got her, Nat,” Wanda said, her voice unsteady, but comforting. Melanie buried her face in her neck instead, barely seeming to notice the change. She was in deep shock, I realised. Between the horror and grief and the over-exertion of her powers, she wasn’t functioning. I hated to leave her in such a state, but I had to find Clint and the children, I had to… “I’ve got her,” Wanda repeated. “I’ll get her out of the rain. Go.”

I cast her a grateful glance, pressed my lips swiftly against my beloved’s forehead, then rose and sprinted for the barn.

Rhodes was just hauling part of a collapsed partition wall off Clint’s unconscious form. From his mud-streaked flannel shirt and jeans, the attack had obviously caught him completely unawares. I guessed he had been tinkering on his workshop renovation when they had hit. He was covered in blood, an ordinary woodwork hammer still clenched in his hand. He hadn’t even had time to get to his weapons.

Sam dragged him out from beneath the wreckage and knelt quickly at his side, searching for a pulse. “He’s breathing!” he exclaimed, relief in every syllable.

I helped them make a crude stretcher from a section of barn door, we laid my best friend on it and carried him back to the med team.

The inside of the quinjet looked like a field hospital in a warzone. We staggered up the ramp with our burden and many hands took him from us, easing him onto a gurney and immediately beginning to probe his wounds, examining the extent of the damage. Looking around dazedly, I saw Laura on another gurney, surrounded by drips and medics, Melanie among them. Evidently the need for her particular talents had roused her from her hysteria; she met my eyes briefly, and though I could see she was close to dropping with exhaustion, my heart lifted slightly at the burning determination in her expression. Melanie would not allow Laura and Clint to die, she would save them if it took every drop of energy she had.

I staggered back down the ramp and re-joined the others, anxiety pushing aside my fatigue. Laura and Clint were accounted for, but the children, where were the children?

The rain continued to fall, and the gloom deepened into night, as we picked our way through the rubble, desperately searching. I hunted through a dazed fog of despair, feverishly hauling aside debris, peering everywhere for a human shape, half hoping, half fearing that I would find them. The others were doing the same, mostly silent in our shared dread.

We found nothing.

After a while I heard Maria suggest, in hoarse, choked tones, that perhaps the children had escaped into the surrounding woods. Sam and Rhodey leapt in the air without a word, zooming off into the gathering darkness. Bucky, his face grim, trotted off on foot, heading for the line of trees, his eyes scanning the dirt ground, searching for footprints. Wanda, Maria and I continued hunting through the wreckage. I didn’t know what I feared more, that I would come across their broken bodies, or my growing suspicion that they weren’t here to find.

I felt rather than saw Sam and Rhodes return, heard the crunch of Maria’s footsteps as she trudged up to them, then their muttered voices. Another set of footsteps, and Bucky ran back into view.

Wanda straightened up beside me. “It’s over,” she whispered, her eyes unfocussed. “They’re gone.”

“Nat,” Maria’s voice came from behind me. “Nat, they’re not here. The children have been taken. Bucky found their tracks, and Sam found marks of a quinjet. They’re gone. There’s nothing more we can do here. And we urgently need to get Clint and Laura to a hospital.”

I raised my head, fear stabbing through the numb fog of desolation. “Mel?”

Maria looked pained. “She’s worked miracles, she’s kept them alive, but she’s got nothing left. She’s passed out cold.”

My angel. My heart bled for the herculean effort she had put forth to keep our friends alive. So much healing, on top of multiple transportations, when she was already drained from the events of the last week – no wonder she had collapsed.

Maria turned and headed back to the jet, ordering everyone back aboard. “Come on,” Wanda said tearfully, tugging at my hand.

I didn’t move.

I stared at the ruin, at the shadowy woods beyond the fields, lifted my eyes to the darkening sky. The rain was passing, the clouds dispersing. Here and there, the odd star stubbornly peeked out.

“Nat,” Wanda whispered. “No.”

“I can’t leave them.” My voice was quiet, toneless. “She wants me, Wanda. That’s why she took the children. It’s a ransom note. Me for them.”

“You don’t know that!” Wanda cried desperately.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said wearily. “I can’t leave them. I can’t face Clint and Laura and Pepper…” A spasm of pain shuddered through my body. Poor Pepper, after losing her husband, to face losing her only child, all because of me. “If giving myself up will get them their children back, I have to do it.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Wanda demanded feverishly. “You can’t trust her, Nat! You can’t be sure she won’t accept your deal, and then keep them prisoner anyway!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said again, resolve stiffening my spine. “If nothing else, I will be there to protect them. And I’ll be inside her base. She doesn’t know about my new powers, don’t forget. I’ll find out everything I can, and I’ll find a way to get a message to you. We’ll take her out from both sides, you guys from without, me from within.”

“But what if you can’t? What if she kills you?” Wanda moaned.

I shook my head. “She won’t.” I was certain about that much. Whatever else she might do to me, however much she wanted to make me suffer, I was sure she had no intention of allowing me to die, not after waiting almost twenty years for her revenge.

Tears trickled down Wanda’s face. “Mel’s going to kill _me_ , you realise.”

I managed a bittersweet smile. “Nah. She’ll forgive you. She knows how stubborn I am.” I laid my hand on her shoulder, looked deeply into her eyes. “I need you to take care of her. Promise me.”

Wanda gulped. “I promise.”

Reluctantly, I slid my engagement ring from my finger. Removing it felt physically painful, but it was it was the most precious object I had ever possessed, for reasons that had nothing to do with the worth of the gem, and I refused to allow it to be taken from me by an enemy. I pressed it to my lips for a moment, closing my eyes against the agonising pain beneath my ribcage, then pressed it into Wanda’s palm, closing her fingers around it. “Tell her I love her,” I said hoarsely. “Tell her I will _always_ choose her. Tell her to keep this safe, because I’m coming back for it. You’re going to get to wear that bridesmaid gown. I promise.”

Wanda’s lip trembled, then she suddenly threw her arms around me, squeezing me tightly. I hugged her back for a brief moment, then pushed her away. “Go,” I whispered, barely able to speak for the lump in my throat. “Get them away from here. Save them.”

Wanda turned and ran back to the quinjet. I gritted my teeth against the overwhelming longing to run after her, to at least tell the others goodbye, to hold Melanie just once more… but I knew if I did, my resolve would crumble. Shouts of consternation echoed from within the jet as the ramp began to close. My lips twitched unwillingly as tendrils of red fire snaked their way around the jet. I imagined my friends’ cries of anger and shock as Wanda took control. None of them would have willingly left me behind, but Wanda wasn’t giving them a choice in the matter.

“Goodbye my love,” I whispered, as the jet lifted into the air, powerful engines pulsing, and shot off into the night.

Alone beside the wreckage of the first place I had ever called home, I sat down on the chipped and battered stump Clint used as a chopping block, and waited. The last of Wanda’s summoned clouds drifted away, and the moon rose, bright and full, from behind the trees. I gazed up at the stars, remembering all those nights on the island that Melanie and I had spent sitting beneath that spangled velvet canopy, laughing, talking, or simply drinking in the beauty in contented silence. I let the peaceful memory fill me up, calm my racing heart. Fear and worry and regret were pointless now, and a waste of energy I might need later on. I was on a mission. I would do whatever it took to succeed.

At least an hour passed, long enough for them to ascertain that this was no trap, that there was no ambush lying in wait, before I heard the sound I had been waiting for. Of course she was still here, hidden in her cloaked craft. I had known she would be. Even if she had not expected me to respond to her implied ransom demand so quickly, she would have wanted to see me. Wanted to watch her revenge in action.

I slowly got to my feet but did not turn around as the sounds of the jet landing died away behind me. The familiar pneumatic hiss heralded the ramp opening, and soft footsteps made their way down it.

I knew who was behind me. Her presence filled the night air, as unmistakable as Melanie’s or Wanda’s. An aura uniquely her own, and as familiar as my own shadow. She didn’t speak, but I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head.

Slowly, I turned to face her.

She stood at the foot of the ramp, her slender figure swathed in dark green leather that shone like a snake’s scales. A green cloak billowed around her in the slight breeze, the voluminous hood covering her head. The gold mask glinted in the light of the moon, shining from beneath the shadow of the hood. I stared at her in cold silence. The intense burn of hatred and rage I had feared would mark this meeting didn’t come; instead I felt a wave of terrible sadness that we had to be reunited in such circumstances. That she had felt driven to such extremes to express her pain. She still didn’t speak, but her head cocked slightly to one side in a manner achingly familiar.

“Hello Tanya,” I said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh duh duh!!  
> Couldn't resist a cliffhanger, sorry. Hope you're enjoying reading this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. To be continued in part four...


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